#come back and eat some oats you dumb fuck

[savage-rhi]

AuDHD problems be like, "I can't read your intention behind text unless you go all caps or have an emoji in there, and even if you do that my brain can interpret 5 different meanings ranging from this was great, this is great Sarcasm(tm), this is...great?, or LOL YOU SUCK! etc. I need you to literally just TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK YOU MEANT cause I don't need my brain latching onto this for hours on end wondering wtf did so and so mean by (blank) (blank)....GIVE. ME. CONTEXT."

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Tilting at Wind Mills

(Yes I know Bucky isn’t Jewish in the movies. No, I don’t care, he’s Jewish in every fic I write lol)

MCU/Mrs. Maisel Crossover.

1941

"I just don't see why I can't come with," Steve complains as he watches his friend get dressed up. "I'd be respectful."

"Because you can't fast," Bucky reminds him. "Yom Kippur is the one where you can't eat, remember? You'd black out in synagogue." 

Steve sighs. "Bring me leftovers from the break fast?" 

Bucky grins. "That I can do. Okay. Off to the Upper West Side I go. Wish me luck. Maybe I'll meet a rich, pretty girl."

It earns him an eye roll. "Leave."

He does. 

*****

He steps up in front of the ornate apartment building and adjusts his tie as his sister steps up to join him. 

"Ready for a fun-filled day of atonement with the family who has no idea what to do with us?" Ricky Barnes asks teasingly. 

"An entire day with the Sackville-Weissman's," Bucky jokes. 

Ricky rolls her eyes. "You and your Tolkein."

"If you'd just give it a chance-"

"Are you two going to come upstairs and join us?" 

It's a familiar voice. Tired and elderly, but infused with warmth, and soon both of them are wrapped in the arms of their grandfather. 

"Hi, Zeyde," they chorus. 

He chuckles. "Hello, kinder. I was just taking a walk. Getting away from the chaos of trying to convince Noah that God doesn't want him to eat today."

Bucky chuckles. "Every year with that kid." 

Chaim Weissman looks them both over critically. "You both look good. Strong. I was worried after your mother passed last year…"

"We're not that far away to check on, Zeyde," Ricky reminds him carefully. 

"That's on me," he admits. "Brooklyn is full of memories. I miss your mother very much. I never dreamed outliving one of my children." 

Bucky squeezes the man's shoulder. "Let's go check on Uncle Abe. See if he's blown a gasket yet."

*****

Services are long, and Bucky is hungry but he's got an eight-year-old girl cousin who is funny and they make dumb faces at each other when no one is looking. 

Noah and Midge are significantly younger than Bucky, but it's kind of nice. Noah is twelve and too smart. Midge, the aforementioned eight and funny and intuitive. 

Bucky isn't comfortable with his uncle and aunt's wealth (adding Sackville to the front of their name isn't a total joke), but he loves seeing his cousins and grandfather. 

These dinners used to end in arguments, before Bucky's mother passed away. About family responsibility. About money. About the fact that the Weissman's have quite a lot, while the Barnes branch rarely had enough (mostly due to Bucky and Ricky's father magically disappearing back in 37).

"You know, James," Aunt Rose tells him at break fast as their housekeeper (fuck, seriously?) serves the food. "There are some lovely girls I could introduce you to."

Zeyde tries not to roll his eyes. 

"I'm good, thank you," Bucky assures her. "I'm not really ready to settle down." 

"Of course not," Uncle Abe agrees. "He's young, Rose. He's sowing his oats." 

"And we’re likely going to war soon," Zeyde chimes in. "James is strong. They'll want him to fight." 

Midge taps him on the shoulder from next to him at the table and Bucky leans down to listen as she whispers in his ear. 

"Don't die, or I'll find you in the afterlife and give you a wedgie."

Bucky laughs and wraps her in his big arms, giving her a tight hug. "Okay, Midge. You got it." 

*****

1945

At thirteen, Miriam Weissman attends her first funeral. 

There's no body to bury, so it's really just a memorial for her cousin. 

Bucky was always nice to her. Good natured and charming. Quick-witted. On Hanukkah when she was six, he taught her to make potato knish from scratch while Zeyde critiqued from the kitchen table. 

"No side seat cooking," Bucky had joked. "You wanna teach her, you come over and teach her." 

There's a handsome blonde man -Captain America - speaking to the congregation about her cousin. About what kind of man he was, and it all rings true. 

Midge remembers Steve. He used to come with Bucky to dinners sometimes. Small. Always polite. When she was little, he drew her a pretty picture of a flower that she still has framed on her wall. 

He looks so deeply sad, and Midge looks at her hands to avoid crying. 

Captain America dies not long after Bucky does. 

She pulls the picture he drew off her wall and stows it away. 

****

1950

Just before he passes away, Chaim Weissman promises his pretty granddaughter he'll make good on that wedgie when he catches up to James in the afterlife. 

Midge laughs and cries at that. 

*****

November, 1954 

“Congratulations,” a soft voice says. The accent is British, and Midge frowns as she turns her head. 

She gave birth to her first child just a few hours ago, and she’s exhausted, so she’s not even sure if this is real, but there, sitting next to her is a beautiful woman. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Dressed in a sharp skirt suit. 

“Thanks?” Midge tries, blinking rapidly.  

The woman smiles. “We haven’t met. My name is Peggy Carter. I worked with your cousin, Sergeant Barnes and his friend, Captain Rogers.” 

Midge blinks rapidly, looking surprised. “I…did you find something? Did you find-” 

Peggy reaches out then, placing a hand on Midge’s. “I’m sorry. No. That isn’t why I’m here. I’m here to ask for your help.” 

“Me?” Midge asks. 

Peggy nods. “My agency has multiple operatives who work under deep cover,” she explains. “It’s very dangerous. It’s very isolating. It’s difficult for them, at times, to keep their humanity intact. Bucky spoke fondly of you. That you were his favorite cousin. I know that you’ll be busy with your new addition for a while. But after…I was wondering if I could send them your way for a warm meal every now and then.” 

Midge bites her lip. 

“You won’t be involved in anything they’re doing,” Peggy promises. “You won’t be asked to carry secrets. They’ll be sent in under the guise of old friends of your cousin’s. And in quite a few cases, it won’t be a lie. Just dinner.” 

Midge thinks about that for a moment. About how she wishes she could make knish with her favorite cousin again. 

And she nods. “Give me a few months to get this motherhood thing under control, and then send ‘em my way.” 

Peggy smiles at her. “You’ll get forty-eight hours warning each time. Expect a call in six months.” 

“Your friends better be ready for the best meal of their lives,” Midge smirks. 

The older woman chuckles as she gets to her feet. “You are very related to James Barnes.” 

“Damn right.” 

*****

1955 

“Who’s coming over for dinner?” Joel asks. 

Midge smiles. “Just an old friend of my cousin’s.” 

“And his name is Dum-Dum?” Joel scoffs. “What the fuck kinda name is that?” 

Midge shrugs and smiles wider. 

***** 

December 1957

At eight months pregnant with baby number two, Midge knows she shouldn't be running around late at night, but she forgot the extra potatoes for the knish tomorrow and she can't sleep anyway, so she finds herself at a corner market. 

There's only one other shopper this late and he's a big man in a bulky coat, gathering pears into a bag. 

There's something unsettling about the man. And familiar. 

"Late night snack?" She asks. 

He glances at her. 

"I forgot the potatoes for the knish. My husband hates them but I love them." 

Still no answer, but he becomes more familiar the more she looks at him. 

Midge tilts her head. "You remind me of someone." 

He drops his pears and storms out.

She frowns down at them, laying on the floor, the only evidence the man was ever there at all. 

*****

1964

Lenny Bruce loves his second wife but some fucking times he is very confused by her. 

Like now. 

He's hanging out with her on tour in California. It's late. He's tired. But he's chasing after her as her heels click quickly down the street. 

"Midge-"

"Saw a ghost!"

"Midge, for christ sake, what does that even mean?" 

"What do you mean what does that mean? It means I saw a ghost."

"Friend or foe?" Lenny asks. 

"Family."

"So both."

She stops and frowns as she looks around the empty LA street. "I could have sworn…" 

Lenny catches up, taking her hand and giving her a gentle tug. "Midge, talk to me."

Midge bites her lip, looking around and then back at him. "I had a cousin die in action in 45."

Lenny frowns. "I didn't know…"

"Papa had an older sister," Midge explains. "She had two kids, and one was a boy. James. His name was James and he was fun. Nice to me. Anyways, I…they never recovered his body, and��just before Esther was born I ran into someone who looked…so much like him. In the eyes. And now…" 

"That guy on the corner?" 

She nods. 

He pulls her close. "You know, grief is strange, and long, Sweetheart. I'm not saying you're crazy, but this might be leftover shit from his death."

Midge considers that, cuddling in against him. "I guess it could be. I was so sure, though." 

"Evening, folks," a man says with a smile as he walks up. "Late for anybody to be wandering around."

"Well, we're comics," Lenny explains. "Terrible creatures of the night. And ghost hunters, apparently."

"Say, you're Lenny Bruce and Midge Maisel," the man marvels. "I don't suppose I could get an autograph." 

Midge smiles kindly and unwraps from Lenny. "If you've got paper and pen, we've got autographs. Who are we making it out to?" 

"Alexander," he replies, as he pulls out a little pad of paper and a pen. "Alexander Pierce." 

Lenny watches the man as he waves the pen in a strange way, and suddenly the street seems to settle around them in a way it hadn't before. As if someone who wasn't supposed to be there in the first place had gone. 

He signs quickly, letting Midge make small talk with this Pierce guy, and when they finally head back for their hotel, Lenny is so fucking relieved. 

*****

2014

The Village Vanguard 

"Good evening, everyone. I'm Mrs. Maisel and Captain fucking America is sitting in the back, holy shit."

The crowd- Steve included - laughs. 

"I have a secret to tell you," she says closely to the microphone. "I knew Captain America when he was just a scrawny Brooklyn kid who could get knocked over by a stiff breeze. And boy fucking howdy do I have stories." 

Steve laughs more and shakes his head. Sam is laughing too. 

"Have you ever watched a 98 pound gentile try to flirt with the tallest Jewish girl in the room?" Midge asks. "Let's settle in. It's summer, 1939. He is the only goy at our Catskills resort, and he is in it to win it with Shira Farber, who is six foot one and could break him in two. Now, as a little girl I just thought it was silly. As an adult? I have to ask: Steve, are you just really into women stepping on you? Because that is what would have happened if you'd succeeded." 

The audience laughs and Steve rubs his face. "I asked for this by showing up, didn't I?"

"Getting roasted by an 81 year old woman who's done it professionally since the 60s? Yeah." 

"Is it wrong to talk about Captain America and sex?" Midge asks. "Does being a symbol of the ideal America preclude you from wanting a good fuck? Not that he has to want to fuck, but is it because he doesn't want to fuck or because the government doesn't want him to fuck? I bet those USO girls back in the day knew the answer to that question." 

Sam slowly looks at Steve. 

Who turns red. 

"I mean that begs the question: is the American dream sexless?" Midge asks. "We've always been disturbingly puritanical, haven't we? My late husband got arrested how many times for dirty jokes? Where is the we like to fuck political party? Where's the candidate handing out Plan B at their town halls? You know. Just in case. Sure, we want liberty, but a lot of us also want orgasms. What is congress' plan to increase getting off in the coming fiscal year? Not that kind of coming. I mean I hope I'll be coming sometime in the next fiscal year." 

Sam laughs loudly at that. 

"Yeah, Mr. Falcon thought that was funny. I bet he fucks." 

Steve laughs at that one as Sam shrugs sheepishly. 

"Can you imagine being the woman to take Captain America's virginity?" Midge asks. "Steve, when you made it with a woman for the first time, did you sing the National Anthem?" 

Steve laughs and plays along. "My Country Tis of Thee!" He calls back, making the audience, and Midge laugh. 

"Good answer," Midge praises. "People think Captain America, they think patriotism. They think of earnest heroism. I think that guy at the Seder table who insisted on eating the horse radish and then hogged the bathroom for an hour. Steve, you were not the only one with a sensitive stomach that night Steve." 

"Seven days of Passover, seven days of lighting a scented candle in the bathroom because you may think Captain America's shit smells like fresh apple pie, but I can assure you it does not." 

Amidst the applause she beams. "I'm Mrs. Maisel. You've been wonderful. Captain America is still a great sport. Thank you and goodnight!" 

*****

Midge smiles at them as she sits in the little dressing room. 

"Hi, Midge," Steve grins sadly. "Great set." 

"Thanks for playing along," she says. "But I'm guessing you're here about Bucky." 

Steve nods solemnly. "I guess you heard."

"Hard not to," Midge tells him. "When they didn't find the body, his sister and my grandfather held out hope that maybe he'd survived…and now I know that the handful of times I thought I saw him, I probably did. Maybe…maybe he remembered me a little through the brainwashing." 

"We're gonna find him," Sam promises. 

She smiles sadly. "If you do, tell him Cousin Midge says hello." 

*****

2018

To the Ruler of Wakanda, King T'Challa 

My name is Miriam Weissman-Bruce. The world at large mostly knows me as Midge Maisel, and I make people laugh for a living. 

We've never met, but it seems your country is currently taking care of a family member we all thought had died back in the 40s. 

I write to you because he hasn't returned any of my letters. I know he's received them. Wakandan mail is top notch, and I know he has the ability to write back; The idiot lost his non-dominant hand. 

I think he's too ashamed to talk to me. 

I write to you not just to complain like the truly Jewish woman I am, but to request permission to visit him in Wakanda. I ask no special treatment (though if you have comedy clubs, I'd be more than happy to perform and make fun of America for your citizens), I only want to see James sooner rather than later. I'm pushing 90. I'm figuring I don't have time for him to get his shit together. 

Can I say 'shit' to foreign royalty? I guess I'll find out. 

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Miriam "Midge Maisel" Weissman-Bruce 

*****

Bucky Barnes narrows his eyes as Ayo holds the hand of a small, shriveled white woman, helping her through the field toward Bucky’s hut.

“You know, I know several fashion designers who would cut off their own left foot to make clothes for you,” the older woman chats. “Really. You are stunning. And so tall.” 

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, realizing who the old woman is. He holds back tears and takes a breath. “Everybody’s tall to you Midge. You’ve been short your whole life.” 

“The curse of the Ashkenazi Jewish woman,” Midge jokes. “Short as fuck.” 

“What is she doing here, Ayo?” 

“She petitioned our king for a visit,” Ayo tells him. “And she promised him a comedy show. And then when she got here, she insisted on cooking for the royal family to express her gratitude.” 

“We’re Jews,” Midge chimes in. “We’re very good at feeding people.” 

“Are you telling me you made dinner, and I missed it?” Bucky asks, feeling deeply disappointed suddenly. 

“It’s tomorrow night,” Midge assures him, waving the free hand that isn’t holding onto Ayo. “I was told I had to come knock some fucking sense into you first.” 

“Sense?” Bucky asks, offended.

“Fucking sense,” Midge corrects him. “Not responding to my letters. What the fuck, James?” 

“I like her,” Ayo grins as she helps Midge settle onto a little bench near the hut. “I cannot believe you are related. She is much funnier than you are, Barnes.” 

“Well, she did make a career out of it,” Bucky points out. 

Midge looks up at him curiously. “You’ve heard my material?” 

“When I found out, I bought all your records,” he tells her, sitting next to her and taking her hand. “Hi, Midge.” 

Her eyes well up with tears and her unsteady hand squeezes his. “Hi, Bucky. How’s life?” 

“Oh, you know,” he shrugs his shoulders. “I caught some fish yesterday.” 

Midge laughs and shakes her head. “My husband loved to fish. You would have hated him and then loved him after you got to know him better.” 

Bucky smiles, letting go of her hand to wrap his arm around her. “Tell me all about it.”

[nonbinaryeggrolls]

Sweet Holy Honey pt. 3

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4

Nanami x POC!Reader

Synopsis: To keep up with bills you take up a part time job as a stripper/waitress at a gentlemans club in downtown Kyoto under the stage name "Honey". Most days you have to deal with your perverted boss, slobby and drunk old dudes, bachelors, ceos, and college assholes, but every now and then the special customer comes in. He wears a neat beige suit, blue button up shirt, and an unforgettable cougar print tie.

Warnings: SMUT, angst, emotional and physical abuse, cussing, drug use, slight yandere behavior but Nanami isn’t dangerous or violent towards Y/N just obsessed

A/N: This is a normal AU where Nanami and the rest of the JJK characters just have regular jobs/lives

A/N: Just a little note, when you see Y/N and other girls names being italicised it means it's not their real name, it's their stripper name

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Midnight: “Earth to Y/N! Girl are you even listening to me?!” Your best friend shouted while hitting you on the back of the head with a box of wheat thins

It was too early in the morning for this and on a Saturday of all days.

She has caught you in yet another one of your sleep deprived dazes. You couldn’t help it, normally you’d spend your one day off sleeping the afternoon away, then waking up at 3 pm to watch cartoons and eat graham crackers in bed but today Midnight made it a necessity that the both of you use that generous $1000 tip to go grocery shopping. As much as you hated it you had to admit it felt nice to shop for something other than ramen and rotisserie chicken.

Honey: “Can’t we just get some TV dinners and go I’m tiiiiirrrred” you whined, flailing your arms like a spoiled child

Midnight: “I’m not nuking another frozen fettuccine and broccoli plate and calling it ‘dinner’ we’re gonna act like real people and eat real food!” She said as she threw in boxes of whole grain pasta and oat flour into the grocery cart

You rolled your eyes at her remark but deep down you grew warm at how much she always cared for you.

Midnights real name was Yui Hiroshi. She’s been with you ever since high school, even when you dropped out of college and had nothing to offer but the clothes on your back she still welcomed you in with open arms. If there was no one in the world that thought you were special you at least knew Yui always would.

Midnight: “One grand. One motherfucking grand. Even when I say it out loud I still can’t believe it, that man just payed our rent HOLY SHIT!” She beamed and looked over at you, “Why aren’t you as excited about this as I am? If he keeps coming back we can probably move into a better part of town, doesn’t that get you pumped?!”

Honey: “I guess so…just don’t get it” you tugged at the loos thread hanging of your sweater

Midnight: “What’s not to get? A random dude wants to give you loads of money to do nothing, whats better than that?” She tosses a pack of packaged pomegranates into the cart, “I mean it’s better than the sweaty douchebags that just grind on you all night.”

Honey: “It just doesn’t make sense for someone to think so highly of me, especially when there’s better options like you or Soo-Yong (Matcha)

Midnight: “Stop that.”

Honey: “What?” You played dumb knowing exactly what she was talking about but refusing to acknowledge it

Midnight: “That shit you do whenever something remotely good happens to you, every time something goes right in your life you try to convince yourself you don’t deserve it or someone else deserves it more,” Yui took your hand in hers, the acrylic nails she had dragged slightly against your palm when she tightened her grip, “If I have to tell you one more time that you deserve THE LITERAL FUCKING WORLD I’m going to punch you in the boob, okay Y/N?”

A tear fell from your eye as she embraced you

Midnight: “Ugggggh they’re like pillows!” She relaxed against your chest, poking at your breasts like balloons, “Girl are you sure these aren’t fake they’re way too symmetrical?” She teased

Honey: “YUI STOP IT!”

Midnight: “SQUISH SQUISH!”

Gojo: “HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU GLOOMY SON OF A BITCH!” The white haired man burst through Nanamis office door baring balloons and cake: 2 things Nanami didn’t care for, the sugar made his teeth feel gritty and balloon noises made him cringe.

Nanami: “Thank you Gojo now please can you lower your voi—

Fushiguro: “OI NANAMI! YOU READY FOR TONIGHT BIRTHDAY BOY?!”

Nanami closed his eyes, hoping if he did long enough the nuisances in front of him would disappear, but damn were they persistent and only proceeded to nag him further. They were also the only friends he’s made that don’t mind putting up with his melancholic attitude so in a way he was grateful they even remembered his birthday.

The day felt like it’d never end, the barrages of tacky joke gifts from around the office and happy birthday punches absolutely drained the poor man, but it was far from over. The surprise that Gojo, Suguru, and Fushiguro had planned for him tonight kept him occupied

At home Nanami was in a dilemma, the matter of which outfit to wear perplexed him. Knowing Suguru’s high maintenance personality, he would to take him to a high end restaurant where the entree minimum was $120 and the wine cost more than most peoples phone bill. Fushiguro was a man of ever changing tastes so if the plans were in his hands a shopping spree was likely to take place. Gojo on the other hand was still immature at heart and would shove all of them into the loudest, most exclusive club he could think of. The options were honestly endless, but rather than waste time debating Nanami decided to wear his best suit anyways.

He rummaged through the hangers in his large walk in closet, of course it didn’t matter what suit he chose since each and every one of them was premium, but even he had his preferences. In the end he decided on his favorite Saint Laurent all black suit with a maroon turtleneck to match. He ironed and laid his chosen attire out on the bed to put on after he finished showering

DING!

The sound of his phone caught his attention before he had a chance to step in the shower

UPCOMING REMINDER:

APPOINTMENT WITH HONEY [WEDNESDAY 9:00 PM]

His heart skipped a beat at the notification. No matter how many times he saw it, week after week you’re name never failed to send his heart racing. Nanamis hand started to ghost over his now stiffened member as he reminisced…

The way you looked in front of him

How you begged for his release

There was no stopping it now, he was absolutely aching. He stepped into the shower letting the warm water wash over his hair and skin and started to stroke himself— slowly then building up to a deliciously satisfying speed. He dipped his head and closed his eyes

There you were, this time he pictured how you’d look bent over his office desk, his tie around your neck, your panties stuffed in your mouth to mask the needy screams that were begging to escape your lungs. You’d be a good girl for him again right? You’d please him? Let him feel you as your tight cunt clenches around his cock when you cum

“Fuck Honey…” he moaned, practically fucking into his own hand. The sound of his fist slapping against his pelvis echoed through the bathroom

Your sweet voice replayed in his mind like a melody and sent him over the edge. That soft angelic voice begging for him… ‘please, cum for me mister’. His back muscles tensed as he came all over the shower wall. He sighs in relief happy that he was able to get it all out before tonight, it was either take care of it now or get a boner during dinner.

Finally he washes his hair and body then dries himself of and proceeds to put on the outfit he planned for himself. It’s about 10 pm when Gojo texts him:

Gojo:

WE R OUTSIDE! LETS GO GET FUCKED UP🥳🍹🍾

Nanami chuckled to himself, even though his friends annoyed him sometimes he’d be lying if he said he didn’t get excited to go out with them. He grabbed his keys and wallet, turned on his alarm system and left.

Just as he expected, the three of them ended up at a lavish sushi restaurant eating their fill in well crafted rolls and high grade sake, apart from Suguru who was the designated driver. Afterwards they walked around one of Japan’s most well known outdoor shopping complexes and purchased an array of suits for Nanami. But what puzzled him most was the destination they were heading to afterwards, apparently it was so important that they felt the need to blindfold him all the way there.

Nanami: “Is the blindfold really necessary? The material is irritating my skin.” He complained, scratching at the areas that were covered by the thick cloth but only for his hand to be swatted away

Gojo: “No peeking or I’ll make Suguru turn this car around!”

Nanami sighed and dipped his head back against the leather seat

Suguru: “Dont be such a baby we’ll be there soon then you can have all the time in the world to worry about your precious skin your highness” He chuckled

Nanami: “Can I at least get a hint as to where we’re going?” He inquired

Nushiguro who was clearly already slightly tipsy, cackled as he pulled in Nanami by the shoulder

Fushiguro: “Dont worry Nami! *hiccup* You’re gonna LOVE this place *hiccup* a stiff like you could use this release were about to get!”

It was no use, he wasn’t getting any answers out of either of them. All he could do was wait and see what was in store for him.

After what felt like an eternity, finally the car parked. Gojo and Suguru helped lead Nanami out the car since Fushiguro was far too intoxicated to be of any help. They led him across what felt like a gravel parking lot, all of them snickering like children as they opened the door to the building

For some reason his muscles started to tense. The music, the atmosphere, it felt all too familiar to Nanami. He felt his heart drop and palms sweat at the sound of the hostesses low seductive voice.

“Good evening gentlemen Welcome to the Bunny Room!”

Inside the changing room you, Matcha, Cherry, and Midnight sat at the table enjoying your break, eating fruit and gawking over new episodes of Euphoria. That was until Kota walked in along with his trail of after shave and cigarette breath

Kota: “Breaks over girls go get back out there!” He clapped his hands as if the girls were dogs before a master

Matcha: “Um… we still have 7 minutes left in our break why don’t you get some of the other girls, you hired more of us for a reason.” She sassed, returning back to her small plate of cantaloupe and lychees

Kota marched over to the table, grabbing the fruit platter and tossing the entire tray into the trash bin

Cherry: “What the fuck are you doi—!!

Kota: “I wont repeat myself again, I want you four in the VIP room now. There’s a couple of “Wolf of Wall Street” looking motherfuckers here tonight and I want our best girls with them, SO ALL OF YOU GET YOUR ASSES OUT THERE!” He shouted, smacking each of you on the ass as you exited the room, “MAKE A GOOD IMPRESSION, WE WANT THOSE ASSHOLES COMING BACK!”

Honey: “God he’s such a prick I just wanna get this night over with and go home, do you think Maddy is gonna leak Nates dads tape on the next Euphoria episode?” You whispered over to Midnight

Midnight: “Girl I hope so, that whole family needs a good downfall.” You both giggled as you approached the curtain of VIP section. You all adjusted your latex suits and bunny ears before entering. As soon as the curtain opened your lungs felt like they were in your throat. There he was, sitting across from you with 3 unfamiliar men beside him. His face looked pale and sweaty even under the low lights and his eyes never made contact with yours even when you all introduced yourself. Nanami knew it was you in the room but still never looked at you once.

The rest of the night went as it usually would, you all serving bottomless drinks to the 4 men until they were babbling drunks, all except for Nanami who barely sipped from his singular glass of bourbon. Eventually the one with the small scar on the right corner of his lips took a noticeable liking to you, his hands would find their way up your hips each time you walked by with more tequila shots, his eyes lingered on your breast and ass whenever you spoke to them. It was enough to catch the attention of Nanami who wouldn’t show it but was absolutely fuming in his seat. The leather of the couch squeaked and chaffed as he clenched it making his knuckles white. He hated this, he absolutely despised this. Nanamis known his colleagues long enough to know that they’re complete pigs. The only reason they always chose low end strip joints to go to is because they knew the management never cared how you treated the girls. Honey was practically walking prey. A fucking play toy.

Fushiguro: “I’m sick of drinks man, I want a dance! Let them put those bodies to use already!” He laughed and shouted over the loud music

Nanami watched with averse as the rest of them agreed and Suguru called the bunny girls back over. He tried so hard all night to not look at you, apart of him felt like he didnt deserve it especially with the type of company he came in here with, but he couldn’t help it you looked absolutely breathtaking under the low lights. That adorable smile you always flashed made him melt every time even if it wasn’t directed at him.

Gojo: “As honorary best friend of the birthday boy, I’ll take the task of assigning the dancers!” He said standing up and sauntering over to the girls. He inspected them from head to toe as if he was suit shopping. Finally he stopped at you, grabbing your chin to make those big doe eyes match his icy blue stare

Gojo: “Whats your name precious?” He lightly rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip

Honey: “Honey…” you said in your most innocent yet seductive tone. A vein in Nanamis head bulged with anger at the sight

Gojo: “Be a good girl and take care of my friend for me okay Honey?” He pointed in the direction of Fushiguro who shifted in his seat, trying to make room for his aggressive erection

Though reluctantly, you did as you were told and sauntered over to the man, doing your best to avoid Nanamis gaze. If you had looked over you would have seen eyes of desperation and sorrow. He was absolutely miserable watching walk into the hands of Fushiguro. In the end, Gojo ended up assigning Cherry to Nanami, leaving Midnight with Suguru and taking Matcha for himself.

It was the most agonizing 20 minutes of his entire life, he never took his eyes off of you, watching you twirl and grind on Fushiguro while he slapped his calloused hands against your bare thighs made him cringe in disgust. When you finally made eye contact with him he could fully see the bruises form from where Fushiguro had grasped your neck and arms

Nanami: “Toji…dont you think that’s a little much?” He asked. You let out a low grunt and attempted to push yourself away from him, only to be forced back into his chest. The smell of tequila on his breath was unbearable.

Gojo: "Yeah man, calm down a little bit..."

Fushiguro: “Dont be so fucking boring, she’s having fun. Right baby?” He grabbed you by the throat tight enough to make a gasp escape your mouth and a single tear run from the corner of your left eye, “Such a good little whore…” He cooed, grinding himself against you until he came in his pants and brought down one last hard slap against your ass, you’re single tear now turned to full on sobbing…noisy, embarrassing sobbing that made Nanamis heart break in half.

But still he wouldn’t speak up, even when the rest of the girls cursed at Toji, even when you ran out the room in a bruised and balling mess, he said nothing…absolutely nothing

Midnight: “DONT EVER BRING YOUR FUCKING ASSES BACK HERE. FUCKING SORRY ASS PERVERTS!” She screamed at all of them, eyes peering into Nanamis with venom in her stare

Fushiguro and Suguru did nothing but laugh at Midnights feeble attempt to hurt his pride.

In the break room you trembled in the mirror as Cherry tended to your irritated skin with a glass of ice, the kisses she left on your cheek were sweet, but did nothing to help you emotionally. In this moment you favored the idea of a different life somewhere in another timeline where youre respected… maybe even loved. In another life maybe you’re a renowned physician, or a kindergarten teacher, or a stay at home mom who’s adored by your children and cherished by your partner. In another life maybe your special to someone, but not here. Here you’re nothing…

Midnight: “Are you sure you’ll be okay walking home by yourself? I can cancel my shift early, I don’t give a fuck about Kota.” Yui ask while caressing the mark on your wrist

After everything that happened tonight you decided to leave the Bunny Room early, despite Kotas strict demand not too. You didn’t care he didn’t have the balls to fire his best girl anyways

Honey: “I’ll be fine babe, I’ll text you when I get home safely” you kissed her cheek goodbye before exiting out the backdoor, clutching you pepper spray inside your purse. In hindsight it probably was not the best decision to decide to walk home at 4:00 am but all you wanted was to bury yourself in your covers and forget about tonight, forget about him—

“Honey!”

Shit.

A familiar voice snapped you out of your self loathing, the last voice you wanted to hear from. Nanami looked a mess standing next to his car, with his disheveled hair and loose fitting sweatpants you would never have guessed he was a successful salaryman

Nanami: “I’m… I’m so sorry about—

Honey: “Go fuck yourself you piece of shit!” You didn’t give him a minute to speak before you stormed off, seeing your mace in hand he knew better than to attempt and physically stop you, all he could do was continue to call out in hopes you’d listen

Nanami: “Please I didn’t know they were bringing me here tonight! I would have never brought them here willingly! Honey you know me better than that—

Honey: “I don’t know shit about you dude, I don’t even know your name!” You scoffed “You’re just some pervert that shows up and pays to jack off to random chicks, and based on the way you’re friends act I can see where you get it from. You’re pathetic!” Your slander went on and on, all of it aimed with the intention to break him down to the same level of vulnerability you were at. It showed in the way your eyes teared as you yelled, even through your feisty personality and loud antics he could still see the softness in you. The part of you that just wanted to be valued

Honey: “Why dont you get a fuckin hobby dude? Or matter of fact how about you get a real girlfriend, instead of dragging yourself around begging for slivers of female attention like a sorry ass schoolboy. You spend 4K a week to fantasize about pussy youll never even fuck, don’t think that boujee ass Mercedes that you pull up in makes you any different from the other creeps that come in h— mmpf !

You let out a muffled squeak. Taking the chance of being pepper sprayed he put his palm over your mouth because if he heard anymore he’d break and walk away from this strange infatuation he had for you. For months he had adored you from the sidelines slowly watching how you became a goddess in his mind, and he wasn’t about to let your facade of cruelty change his mind.

His soft hands cupping your mouth moved to caress your bottom lip. Nanamis warm body stepped closer to yours bringing you an involuntary sense of safety. It wasn’t long before you found yourself breaking down in tears against his chest, the need to make yourself superior to him in order to dull your own hurt drains out of you and fizzles into nothingness when he embraces you. How? How was it that this man… this man you knew only for a moment had you falling apart in his grasp

Honey: “I have to go…” you whisper, “I—

Nanami bends over placing his soft lips against yours in a chaste kiss. Nothing compared to it, you felt amazing against him and all of a sudden you craved something you didn’t know you wanted.

Nanami: “Leave this place with me Honey, please. I can take care of you.” It was bold. He knew that. Too much to throw at you at a time like this but what did he have to lose? If you said yes he’d cherish you, spend his days making you feel like the only person in the world who mattered. If you said no he’d never force you, he wouldn’t dare make you fear him in the way men like Fushiguro would. But he’d never stop trying, every week he’d still be there

Again…

And again…

And again…

Until the day you might feel the same way he does

All characters belong to Gege Akutami. Story belongs to @nonbinaryeggrolls do not steal

[yandere-sins]

I just finished reading all your Haikyuu Kitsune fics and I am obsessed. I was wondering what would happen if kitsune Suna just kidnapped the reader one night and she just wakes up in his Kitsune village tied up lol.

(╯‵□′)╯︵💗

Glad you enjoyed them! Thanks for reading & requesting ^-^

»»———————— ♡ ————————««       

You were awake for a while already, pondering, when you finally heard the door to the basement open again. Even though you felt exhausted and anxious after the last few hours that you spent alone in the dark, you still mustered up the strength to glare, enough hatred in your gaze that the person entering the basement should have dropped dead if looks could kill. Person? Entity? You weren’t sure how to title him, but any name that came to mind wasn’t a very friendly one.

“You’re scrunching up your face... again,” he noted, and now pointed out, you grimaced even more. Suna either didn’t want to understand why you were looking at him, clearly finding discomfort in your gaze as he opted to avoid your eyes, or he decided to play dumb. Whichever it was, it only made you angrier!

“Seriously...” he mumbled, sighing deeply before placing down the tray he had been carrying, on a barrel next to the stairs. The whole basement was stuffed with things that seemed like they had been standing there for a while, unused and covered in thick layers of dust. Some of the stuff looked like ancient versions of modern tools for farming, but with that man nearby, your whereabouts were your slightest worry.

“I got you some food.”

Placing a spoon into the bowl he had brought, he stirred it briefly, a gooey, thick substance dripping of the cutlery when he lifted it into the light of the candle accompanying him. You, right away, felt anything but hungry, even if you assumed it was just oatmeal. Still, judging from the looks of it, you couldn’t find even one thing that was appetizing about it.

Taking the bowl with him, he walked over to you, a hand reaching out towards your face as you reacted, pushing yourself backwards until your back hit another barrel behind you. The metal chains wrapped around your wrists rattled upon your stir, making Suna flinch away for a second, his whole body stiffening as he looked back over his shoulder and up the staircase. He remained silent for a moment as if he waited for the door to open, but nothing happened.

“Don’t be too loud,” he reminded you for what must have been the fiftieth time since he threw you over his shoulder and made a run for it to this place, a strange, abandoned village in the forest. “They could hear you. Just be warned that other than me, my kin might eat you on the spot.”

Part of you wanted to call this a bluff—just a trick to keep you quiet. But knowing how unpredictable he was, you didn’t want to get to know any other ‘of his kin’ either. This time, you drilled a hole into the hand slowly approaching your face, strained your neck to get it off you. But lastly, he managed to pull on the cloth wrapped around your head and gagging you, making you fear more scratches from the claws on his fingers.

You didn’t know it was possible to feel sore around your mouth but being free of the gag it was the painful reality you were facing. “Eat,” Suna decided, gathering the gunk of a meal on his spoon before lifting it to your lips. “Fuck off!” you hissed at him quickly, turning your head away and making him struggle to hold the spoon properly, dripping its contents everywhere.

“I am doing this for you, you know?” he growled as you two fought over whether you were going to eat or not. Until Suna had enough, his second hand much quicker and less careful in its approach as it clipped over your nose, pulling you forward. You didn’t have enough time to see it coming, gasping as he cut off your air supply and tugged, making you open your mouth wide enough for him to press the spoon forward.

The taste of unseasoned oats and the wooden spoon mixed with your saliva while you tried not to gag from the slime that seemed to slip right down your throat. Before you knew it, Suna let go of your nose, and you didn’t hesitate to spit out whatever hadn’t been forwarded to your stomach yet, the mass spilling all over the floor.

Disgusted, Suna watched you as you coughed, wishing the taste would pass immediately, not even a hint of understanding in his gaze. “For someone so worried about food, you’re very wasteful. Open up, come on.”

You barely had time to recover as he scooped up another mouthful, but this time you felt ready nonetheless. Clenching your teeth together, you waited for him to do the trick again, deciding you’d rather suffocate than accept any food from him, especially one that you couldn’t be sure where, when, and how it was made.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he pressed the spoon up to your teeth, growing impatient as you wouldn’t open up no matter how much pressure he applied. Suna even gripped your chin from below, trying to slam both forces together, but you persisted. You would have been mighty proud of yourself for resisting if not for the oatmeal getting plastered all over your face, its consistency running down your cheeks and lips as Suna threw away the spoon in frustration.

“Fine!” he gnarled. “You want to show me how tough you are? I can do that too!”

As if on cue, the light flickered before going out, but even just the three seconds that you were able to see his bared teeth - his pointy fangs looking even longer than you imagined them from that time he bit you - scared you. It was the first time, but certainly not the last, that you felt yourself submit to him. Like an animal who tugged in its tail, you flinched away, ducking lightly until all you could see were his golden, shining eyes in the dark. Even if it was just a spur-of-the-moment action, you instantly felt embarrassed and upset you reacted the way you did.

“Good,” he appraised your recoiling motion before he moved closer. You felt his body leaning towards you, the warmth impossible to ignore as his arms caged you on either side, barrel in the back and fox in the front. You felt something wet and rough drag over your chin, lips, and cheek before you felt it trying to intrude on your mouth. Even if you wanted to complain, scream even, you found yourself cut off by Suna exploring the inside and catching your voice, the damn taste of oatmeal back on your tongue with no way of spitting it out.

His arms closed in on your hands, long fingers wrapping around the metal restraints and pulling your shoulders down until your hands pressed against the dirty ground, making it almost impossible to move your body like you wanted. The kiss continued, mouths opening for quick breathers in between, and you had to realize that these fangs weren’t optimal to be used for kissing, your teeth colliding with his a few times, and your lips getting caught on the fangs. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but every time it happened, you felt a spark of pain going through you.

The sounds very quickly changed from sloppy to passionate on his side, soft whines and groans escaping him in the breaks. You felt like you were going to die from either shame or the pain of him ending up dislocating your shoulders as Suna kept pressing in further and further, his chest soon enough resting on yours while your hands hurt from being caught in his grip and bracing against the ground.

All that was left when he very suddenly, very unpredictably, pulled away was the taste of iron as his fang finally managed to rip open a small part of your lip. You cursed inwardly as you took deep breaths, trying to regain air and your composure, while you barely heard him whisper something under his own breath. “... too much,” you made out, coming from him before he turned around, taking deep breaths.

“What the fuck--!” you cursed, but Suna was quick to return to you, clasping his hand over your mouth before listening intently. “Shhh!” he hissed, listening again, just like before. However, this time, you collected all the courage you had in you to bite him in the hand, catching a finger to latch on to. Suna noticeably flinched before he pulled away, seemingly looking at his hand for a split moment in an emotion you couldn’t make out. Still, before long, he clicked his tongue and pressed the gag he had taken off you back in place.

Even if you struggled now, he was stronger than you as well as relentless, and after tying a knot in the back, his hands lingered on each side of your head briefly. You could only see his eyes coming closer, but next thing you knew, you felt another kiss to your exposed lips before he seemed to notice the blood, his tongue coming forth to lick the wound tenderly, different from how he treated you before. “Fuck...” he whispered before he finally let you go and got up, his feet barely making any sound as he moved away.

“I’ll be back in the morning, don’t make a sound if you want to survive the night,” were his last words before he swiftly walked up the stairs and out the door, again leaving you behind all by yourself.

What were you supposed to make out of the situation? Why did he bring you here anyway if he was just going to leave you alone? What was ‘too much’, and why did he kiss you again and again? It felt like every time you saw him, you had more questions left unanswered than before. All you knew was that you wanted to go home.

And hopefully, this was just a very awful nightmare you’d soon wake up from.

[faerienextdoor]

general relationship hcs with (some) pastas

Fair warning, I'm using and hinting at mine and my friends’ writing for these creeps :) enjoy  also as soon as i figure out how to open an ask box, I’ll be accepting requests

Brian:

- oh where to start with this absolute himbo

- he melts around you. like he's your bitch, and you're his.

- he's the type of boyfriend that takes you out in the snow and shoves a handful down the back of your jacket, and laughs until you shove snow in his face

- it is snow war

- it ends with you cuddling him, wrapped in a blanket and content in front of the burning fire he got started just for you <3

- but he also has some weird... habits.

- drinks pickle juice.

- gets his hand stuck in the jar.

- looks at you like 🥺 until you sigh and help him. for the fifteenth time.

- he can cook some basic breakfast foods, and happily breaks out a cookbook to prepare you something as a surprise or to learn something with you!!

- baking with him would be a mess. he forgets flour goes everywhere and now you both look like you took a bath in cocaine

- but the cupcakes are mediocre at best. they aren't absolute garbage, so... cupcake points!

- he worries about how hoodie treats you. he doesn't remember anything when he regains control, but you've reassured him hoodie is just fine.

- and he is

(hoodie)

- hoodie is like a rottweiler or a doberman.

- protective. intimidating. energetic.

- but also a giant fucking baby.

- this large ass man lumbers over and drops to his knees. places his chin on your lap and stares at you from the fabric of his mask until you stop what you're doing and stroke his head awkwardly

- you could swear he does those happy grumbled a rottie does.

- hoodie is silent but shows he loves you just as much as brian does. He strokes your hair silently, even places a kiss to the crown of your head as you sink into his beefy arms.

- he smells nice too. surprisingly.

- but that raises the question: if hoodie showers, does he shower with that damn thing on?

- you won't get an answer if you were to ask.

- brian introduces you to his grandma julia. and she dotes on you.

- the immortal old lady remarks that you’re the best s/o brian has brought to her yet.

Tim:

- a lumberjack man with biceps like a fucking tree trunk

- how'd you land him? give me your secrets (/j)

- he's such a love bug. a tired stressed love bug.

- he finds /every/ excuse to have physical contact with you. it's like a little touch from you reassures him that you're real. you're like a dream to him.

- he's the best for cuddles. He holds you to his chest

- and you get special access to his moobs

- and he gently strokes your head, traces shapes into your back, etc. it's a special intimate moment each time.

- my man's is italian-american but can't cook to save his fucken life

- he always gets your favorite microwave meals though!! he never forgets.

- not feeling good? dw baby he's making it for you <33 shitty low tier bean and cheese burrito coming up

- slowly he learns the basics and surprises you with lunch or even dinner if you're lucky!!

- he loves you so much. and wants you to feel it and know it. all the time.

(masky)

- god where to start with this bitch

- he's not jeff levels of bad ofc, but he's silent and... weird. creepy, some may say. he doesn't mean to be.

- and he's a hard ass. far more strict than tim.

- he follows you around like a giant fucken puppy and will spook you by grabbing you abruptly and holding you tightly

- you can't escape him. he really utilizes his physical strength

- he loves lifting you up and just... holding you. or carrying you off.

- protective and overbearing.

- but tim keeps him under control.

(angst)

- he wouldn't want to lose you like he lost his last wife.

- you find pictures of a woman laying around and a small girl that bears a striking resemblance to her and tim.

- tim goes quiet and questioned but eventually caves and tells you about his family

- or what he used to have

- his wife died and his daughter disappeared.

- it broke him and you're all he has left now

- constantly needs your affection in return to his own

- pls love him

jeff:

- why the fuck would you date him

- he's the absolute worst in so many aspects. But he genuinely tries for you.

- even if his gifts are shitty, it's nice to know he thoughts of you, right? even if it's a half dead flower or a rib torn from a deer caraccas.

- but you get the butt end of his shithead antics. ranch bath, specifically. he smelt like spoiled milk for a week after and you had to cuddle that fucker.

- and don't get me started on mayo bath

- but he still loves finding himself in your arms. or finding you in his. he's demanding affection wise, and will yank you into him for some cuddles. whether you like it or not.

- he isn't one for a lot of pet names, but calls you curse words or "sweetheart" in polish.

- and you get to see the side of him that only shows when he breaks down.

(bit of angst)

- he misses his family and the life he used to have. he'll reminisce what it was like in poland with his mom and family with you, and you sometimes swear you can see his brown eyes gloss over at the memory of her.

- he never talks about his dad, you've noticed.

- don't ask.

- he brushes off heavy conversations with some dumb quip ("wanna see my renegade?")

- he sucks at cooking. god awful at it. but he really tries for you. manages a bowl of oat meal that's edible.

- but he overloads it with sugar and for some reason, salt.

- he's confused. he thinks that's normal (it isn't)

- his idea of a date is napping with you. or rather, forcing you into nap time.

- I mean it when I say this man is strong in a weird fucken way. latches onto you with that iron grip and you won't be able to leave for at least a few hours.

jane:

- ethereal wlw woman.

- could break you with her heels. or a flutter of what eyelashes she has.

- you're lucky to have her, and she's just as lucky to have you!

- she's sweet and charming. very smooth and takes good care of you.

- her love language is a mix of physical touch and acts of service.

- she'll cuddle you all night, and then make you breakfast in the morning.

- she loves showering with you when she's comfy enough around you! it's super intimate and she washes your hair.

- massages the soap into your hair, suds spilling down your neck and back as her fingers scrub circles into your scalp.

- it's heaven on earth. such a domestic life.

- it'll take a while for her to settle enough in the relationship for you to see her without her mask

- you make her feel so loved and wanted

- secure, even.

- she's protective but not controlling or overbearing. shes that type of girlfriend that's just a worrywart and relaxes as soon as you're curled up in her arms. you fit there perfectly, too. like you belong there.

- which you do. at least in her mind

- she has such a gentle touch and hold on you. like she's afraid you'll combust in her arms if she holds you too tightly.

- she loves stroking your hair and having you nap

- using her tiddies as a pillow 👌

(angst)

- she needs affirmation from you when it comes to her scars.

- she thinks that jeff ruined her. permanently marking her once spotless body.

- and she thinks you'll hate her or find her disgusting.

- that's why she freezes if/when you gently slip off her mask.

- she stares at you with those teary green eyes. then leans in and kisses you

- you make all of her worries disappear.

- she's also financially comfortable, but not really rich (on that topic: eat the rich)

- she spoils you every chance she gets. gifts, a nice dinner date, you name it

- she almost spoils you as much as she does her cat Emory

- little shit has the sparkliest fucken collar and acts like he's the shit

- he's your fur baby too now

Helen:

- oh my god this disaster of an art boi

- he's convinced he's the luckiest man in the world (and he might as well be!!)

- he obviously wouldn't have been the one to confess. but it was really obvious by how he painted and drew you constantly, that some feeling for you was lodged into his beating heart.

- he treats you like the finest china. with the most care a man can manage.

- he's the definition of clingy and affectionate from the very start.

- he curls around your sleeping form perfectly when y'all cuddle.

- his hand dances in your hair, soothing you into a dreamless sleep each night without fail.

- he has a magic touch and a gentle voice.

- and he cherishes you so fucken much. (like a simp /j)

- he shies away from kisses at first, but will hold your hand and melts if you hold his face in them!!!

- he's greek, and often speaks sweet things to you in it. he's so comfortable around you that he speaks in his native language to you. that's an accomplishment.

- he loves when you baby him. helen loves being cradled and loved.

- taking a nap with his head on your chest also hits different. he's so in love with you

(angst)

- he's afraid of losing you. who wouldn't be? you're amazing and you love /him/ of all people

- he thinks very negatively of himself. please scold him for self deprecating.

- he always worries he'll wake up and you'll be gone.

- so he holds you extra close at night. and follows you around when you leave for any reason. Trails behind you like a lost puppy in need of a gentle kiss.

- which, is what he essentially is

- and also: pls steal his sweater and wear it. he'll cry over how cute you are.

[pressedinthepages]

Family Business

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Eskel/Jaskier

Rating: T

Masterlist

a/n: Another day, another collab with Maragret @sometimesiwrite cause we just cannot stop. And this one will have cHaPtErS!!!!!!

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Modern Coffee Shop AU. Eskel and his brothers run a coffee shop. Jaskier pops in one morning. Neither can anticipate what is to come.

The bell above the door of Happy Goat Coffee and Snacks tinkled quaintly as Eskel returned from the corner store, carton of almond milk in-hand. He slipped the receipt into the till and opened the milk fridge, taking stock to see if there was anything else that couldn’t wait for Wednesday’s delivery. All seemed to be in order—Barista Blend soy and oat milks, a few bags of regular milk. He didn’t like carrying almond (bad for bees), but it was the only thing some customers could drink so… here it was. 

He turned to make himself another coffee, taking stock of their baked goods: chocolate zucchini muffins, banana bread, blueberry muffins (a few missing, Geralt’s been here…), and an assortment of granola-based snacks. The overall business plan was plant-based and/or sustainably sourced in the hopes of filling a void left by the larger chains that were the only other options in the neighbourhood. It wasn’t a bad plan, and with the increasing number of conscious-consumer parents, they were establishing a strong and loyal customer base.

    Lambert carried a tray of sourdough paninis around the counter and began transferring them into the display case, arranging them as neatly as his energetic hands would allow. It had been hell working with him for the first little bit. Lambert took after their sainted mother only in being a morning person. His general pissy attitude skipped a generation and came directly from their grandmother. But the prickly bastard knew what he was talking about, and after some… heated negotiations, they managed to agree on finding a local butcher who could provide pork belly which Lambert would turn into proper bacon in the back. They barely had the space, but he somehow made it work, and it sold very well as an add-on. I mean, he wasn’t wrong. It did taste better.

    Of course, this didn’t stop the young brother’s grumbling. He simply did it while chewing. “Lambert, could you please, please, stop eating the bacon?”

    “I’m sorry, I must be doing this wrong. Do I look like I give a fuck???”

“No, you don’t. That’s why I’m doing it for you. Just...” he sighed “don’t eat us into bankruptcy.”

“What, so Geralt can drink all the fuckin organic ass lemonade he wants but I can’t have a piece of gods-be-damned bacon???”

“Geralt drinks the—oh my God you guys are killing me—look, I will talk to Geralt about the lemonade, you can have some, some bacon, and I’m going to try my hardest not to put my head through the fucking wall. Capiche?”

Lambert watched over Eskel’s shoulder as Geralt chugged the remainder of the lemonade from his cup through narrowed eyes in his direction.

“Fine.” Lambert growled, turning back to the kitchen. “You’ve got a fucking customer, by the way, boss.”

“Don’t call—oh never mind. Hello, sorry, welcome to the Exasperated Goat. I’ve changed the name.”

“I love it,” the young man on the other side of the counter crooned, cocking his hip with a smile. “Think it’ll really capture the true essence of the neighbourhood.” Eskel was struck dumb immediately, his words falling flat on his tongue. He was trapped in a pair of dazzling blue eyes and the brightest, most open face he’d seen in a—well, a depressingly long time, if he was honest. The young man was eccentrically stylish with bright splashy colours and patterns that had no business going together as well as they did. 

Eskel wasn’t the only one transfixed. His vivacious new customer was too busy marvelling at something inexplicable behind the proprietor’s hazel-green eyes and his… aura? Was that even a thing? How long have I been standing here? Oh God, am I staring? Shit. 

Geralt swaggered behind the counter and bumped into Eskel's shoulder pointedly.

“What can I get you?” He fumbled, working hard to regain his senses.

The young man recovered more smoothly, “Cappuccino, dry please. And a chocolate zucchini muffin. Please,” he added with a cheeky grin, holding out a twenty.

Eskel took the money and their fingers brushed, just the tiniest bit—was that a linger?—but he felt the sparks fly under his skin nonetheless, and as he got to work steaming milk, he desperately tried to remember how small talk worked. The young man beat him to it. 

“How’s the morning so far?”

Eskel sighed, glancing up at him. “Not...terrible,” he said, peering over his shoulder to find Lambert now munching on a mini quiche. “Lambert keeps eating the merchandise, but I suppose it could be worse.” 

Eskel was caught up in the man’s smile again until the rapidly rising temperature of the milk that brought him back to himself. He tapped the pitcher to settle the foam and wiped the steam wand, “How’s your day been...?”

“Can’t complain,” the man shrugged, taking a sizeable bite out of the side of his muffin—an act that Lambert would have seen as a criminal offense. Eskel disguised an amused grimace. “Had a gig last night, decent turnout. One or two people I didn’t know actually showed up on purpose.” Eskel knocked a portafilter empty, cleaning it with a well-practiced twist of the wrist. The man’s eyes drifted to the espresso-stained microfibre cloth that was currently being handled so expertly and found his mind wandering, jarred back to reality as the grinder kicked on. He jumped a little. 

“Ah, you’re a musician, then?” Eskel asked over the noise.

He nodded, swallowing thickly as he took in the breadth of Eskel’s shoulders. “I like telling stories,” he called back.

“Ah, you write your own stuff, then.” Eskel knocked the edge of the portafilter against the palm of his hand to settle the espresso and Jaskier was lost again, watching large, graceful hands working with strength and precision, all in the name of a decent cup of coffee. Eskel looked at his mesmerized conversation companion, “Or do you prefer to cover?” 

“Hm? Oh, well, a bit of both. I like to cover because it gives people a sense of familiarity, like they can trust you with their evening. It sets the tone. Then I do my own stuff once I’ve got them on my side.”

Eskel cut the shot as the rich caramel colour of the dark espresso began to run lighter, and he gave it a sniff, ensuring the extraction was good before pouring in a little milk, and dolling out large quantities of foam. He passed the drink to the young man. “Extra dry.”

“Ah, my hero,” the young man wrapped his hands around the cup and brought it to his lips. “Mmm, delicious as always.” 

“Always?” Eskel asked, tearing his eyes away from the young musician’s long, slender fingers. “Y-you’ve been in here? I don’t—I’d’ve thought I’d remember you.” 

“Mhm, I usually pop in in the afternoons though, it’s typically Geralt over there who’s working.” He waggled his fingers over Eskel’s shoulder and he heard Geralt grunt in acknowledgment.

“Ah, yes. He takes over from me so I can go home and sleep. Well, rather forces me to. It’s hard to remember there’s a home when you spend most of your time at your own business. You hear people talk about self-care? Mine’s Geralt.”

And the young man, who Eskel thought was incapable of being any more charming, laughed so brightly and earnestly that Eskel could’t stop the grin that spread to his own face—not that he’d’ve wanted to. 

"I suppose that's what partners are for, isn't it?" he said flippantly, adding a dash of nutmeg to the foam in his cup and stirring in a little honey. 

"Pardon?" 

"To remind you there's something other than work, you know, house and family and—" 

"Oh, uh, no—business partner. Geralt's just a—well not just. He's my brother." 

"Ah! I'm so sorry, I just assumed... You know, urban cafe, tasteful decore, and then you mentioned he’s your self-care. Most people aren't that close with their siblings is all." 

Eskel nodded, "Our other brother's in charge of the kitchen. It's... a long story, but, here we are!" 

Eskel watched as the young man took a deep breath through his nose, seemingly steeling himself. He was then met with those striking eyes again as a napkin was slid across the counter, just barely brushing his fingertips. “In that case...would you like to get dinner sometime?”

"I—what?" Eskel shook his head, not quite believing what he was hearing. 

The young man smiled again,"It's alright. I'm just giving you a napkin with my number on it. You can use it to communicate with me. You know, texting? Call me? Maybe eat some food?" 

"But I—I don't understand, why?" 

The young man playfully rolled his eyes, "If you're not interested, you can just say so."

“No! No, I absolutely am, I’m ju-“ Eskel stammered, trying desperately to keep from sticking his foot in his mouth and driving the young man away,“I’m just not sure why you are.”

The young man just laughed brightly, his blue eyes flashing beneath dark lashes, "Because you're handsome, hard-working, and the way we've connected just now gives me a hunch. Besides, how long has it been since you had a chance to get away and go to dinner with someone?" 

Eskel eyed his customer, thought for a moment, and tapped the napkin before picking it up. "Walk first, then dinner. I hate starting dates like a third-degree."

The young man set down his coffee and held out his hand, beckoning to Eskel over the counter. As he came around, he offered his hand in return, and was shocked by the—could he call it intimacy?—of the musician’s hand gently closing around his. It may as well have been an embrace. “I-“ and of course his voice cracked. Eskel cleared his throat with a chuckle, finding those beautiful baby blues once more. “I’m Eskel.”

"Julian. Stage name is Jaskier. You can call me either, it doesn't really matter." 

Eskel smiled warmly, "It's nice to meet you, Julian." 

"Likewise, Eskel. I, uh, I should get going. But. Text me, we'll make plans."

Eskel watched as Julian left, his stride long and confident. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, staring into empty space, but at some point Geralt once again appeared to nudge against his shoulder. “Better save that napkin, brother.”

Eskel nodded at the flimsy paper in his hand, looking at the digits like they were an ancient cipher that needed decoding. "Better yet..." Geralt said, surreptitiously grabbing Eskel's phone from off the counter, unlocking it, and texting, Hope you have a good day.

"Here you go," Geralt said, handing the phone back to Eskel before pouring himself a drip.

Eskel’s stomach simultaneously lept into his throat and fell onto the floor. “Geralt,” he breathed, watching the *read* message pop up, “well now what? By the way,” Eskel suddenly turned, wagging his finger at the end of Geralt’s nose, “quit drinking all of the merchandise!”

“First off, now he can actually text you back instead of waiting to hear from you all day, which is exactly what would happen if left to your own devices. Secondly... Lambert said he wouldn’t tell you.” 

Eskel shook his head, mouth agape, “Unbelievable.”

Eskel’s fingers itched as he continued about his morning business, his phone silent in his pocket. He had nearly given it up as a lost cause when it finally chimed, and then he almost sent the phone flying across the store in his haste. 

So sorry for the late reply, Eskel. I was on the metro and then I had to run off downtown and then, alas, my phone died. I should really get one of those portable battery things. Ah well. Thank you for the well wishes!! It really brightened my day once I finally got them 😍😍😍

Eskel exhaled deeply. Okay, this was okay, this was good. He typed and deleted. Retyped. Deleted. Geralt reappeared over his shoulder, glancing at the text no worries, wanted to make sure you had my number. Geralt shook his head and took a sip of coffee before grabbing Eskel’s phone and typing, no worries, glad you got it sorted. Hope the metro wasn’t too much of a disaster. Geralt handed Eskel his phone to peruse the message.

“When did you get good at texting?” Eskel murmured as he pressed ‘send.’ Geralt merely shrugged as he ambled away, clearly in search of something to snack on as he finished inventory and ordering. Eskel called over his shoulder, “Would you please make more lemonade since you drank it all?!?!” 

As Geralt’s hum in the affirmative hit his ears so did the chime of his phone.

Not bad at all! Only one shouty person, and he didn't even hurl obscenities after me :D Although a mother with a very large stroller gave me a rather impressive side-eye as I sat down with my guitar tucked between my feet and mumbled something about manspreading. Some days it's the little things that get you through 🙃

Eskel replied, That sounds about right for 2 in the afternoon. Too bad you didn't see the Singing Man, he'll really give your day a kick you didn't know it needed.

You know what would give my day a good kick? A lovely walk with a lovely man ;) 

And Eskel blushed. Full on blushed. Lambert snorted from where he hovered in the doorway. 

“Go on, lover boy,” Lambert smirked, taking a bite out of another goddam slice of bacon. “We’ve got it covered.”

He rubbed his face. It was hard to think straight. He'd been up since 4:30, and part of him just wanted to go home and sleep, but it was also the first sunny day they'd seen in what felt like over a month, and the idea of a nice walk with some light conversation wasn't unappealing in the least. He frowned at Lambert, "How do you even know it's him that texted?" 

"Because you just turned three shades of pink and stared at your phone like it's a piece of alien technology." 

Eskel grumbled and turned back to his phone. Would be nice to get some company and fresh air. What part of town are you in? Meet in the middle?

Meanwhile, Julian was on the metro. Again. His leg bounced where he was sitting, reading the same paragraph of some random book over and over again. He knew it was a long shot coming all the way back to the coffee shop—Eskel might be done for the day and gone home or out doing shopping or—but it could be worth it. He lept off at his stop and bounded up the stairs, and his phone dinged with a delayed notification. He smiled at his phone and stowed it away, walking as fast as he possibly could until he saw the familiar sign of the coffee shop. Julian slowed down so that he didn’t cross the line from ‘windswept’ into ‘desperate’ and peered into the little window. He spotted Eskel immediately, his back to the door and speaking with another man behind the counter, presumably Lambert. Julian smiled and pushed open the door.

"Whoa-ho-ho, Pretty Boy at twelve o'clock." 

Eskel looked up from Jaskier's Spotify account and quickly closed his phone. "I suggested halfway, I hope you didn't come all the way across town."

Now it was Julian’s turn to stammer a bit, his tongue feeling too large for his mouth as his eyes swept across Eskel’s form. Since this morning, it had clearly been a busy day. His cheeks were flushed and his hair curling at the nape of his neck, and he had even caught a glimpse of luscious chest hair peeking out from the sharp v-neck that pulled across his chest. “I-“ Julian grinned to himself, come on, keep it together, “I was already on the metro when you texted back, so I figured I’d just...come here!”

Eskel narrowed his eyes and hummed. "Want a drink before we head out?" 

"Oh sure, we can't eat the merchandise but you can give away free drinks to anyone who flirts with you?" 

"I—You—would you just..." 

Jaskier cut in, "I think you'll find that actually exactly how it works. Bit of an unspoken code. People have started taking advantage of it to get free coffee, though. Makes it hard for those of us who mean it..." Julian's eyes met Eskel's for a lingering second and Eskel had to remind himself to breathe. "London Fog, please, Eskel. But I'm happy to pay. I know tea is less expendable." 

"Hm. See, Lambert? It's a barista thing."

Lambert rolled his eyes as Eskel steeped the Earl Gray in a bit of hot water, added vanilla, and steamed some milk. He carefully slid the finished beverage over the counter, one of his hands finding the tie at the back of his apron. “So...” he said, trying to decide between meeting or avoiding Julian’s intense gaze, “would you like that for here, or to go?”

"I think you'll find it's already in a to-go cup," Julian said, raising an eyebrow. 

"That's because we're getting the hell out of here," Eskel said, and—much to Julian's instant pleasure and amusement—fluidly traversed the service counter, landing deftly on the other side. "I just need to change my shoes, and I'll be up in a second." Julian looked down to see Eskel's black work shoes covered with espresso and nodded, blowing on his tea as he watched, leaving him with the Prickly Brother, staring at him as he chewed his bacon. 

Julian sipped his tea and peered over the rim at Lambert, who had been scowling at him the entire time. Though he didn’t take it personally, it was likely that was just his face. “So,” Julian started, thrumming his fingers on the side of the paper cup, “you’re the one who’s been eating all of the merchandise?”

Lambert scoffed and scowled sideways, the last piece of bacon sticking out from the corner of his mouth. He nudged himself off the back counter and swaggered close to Julian. "Listen. I don't know what your deal is. But if you fuck him over, you will have two very big, very pissed off brothers to deal with. Got it?" 

"Fuck him over what?"

"'Scuse me?" Lambert said, scowling harder. 

"You said not to fuck him over, but didn't specify what."

It took Lambert a moment, but he granted himself one singular chuckle for the little shit. “Alright, kid. Just- be careful with him.” 

Julian smiled gently, peering over Lambert’s shoulder to where Eskel was striding back into the shop. “He seems like the kind of guy that I will certainly be trying my best to keep around.”

“Better believe it. You can spend your whole life looking, you won’t find a better guy than Eskel. He’s a fucking goldmine. But he’s our goldmine. Take his shine, you answer to us.”

“Yes, sir,” Julian mock saluted as Eskel handed something to Lambert. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was a piece of bacon. 

“Geralt’s in charge,” Eskel rumbled (which Julian found enticing) and with that, he turned on his heel and pulled open the door. He held it open and Julian smiled as the two of them stepped into the evening sun.

Eskel took a deep breath as soon as they stepped into the fresh air, letting the warm sunlight spill across his face. It was beautiful to look at. His hair glinted with little chestnut highlights and his arching eyebrows became even more pronounced in contrast with the brightness of his skin in the evening glow. Julian watched the muscles of his face relax, the pressure of greeting people slowly dissolving. His shoulders dropped, and he looked truly exhausted for a moment before opening his eyes and smiling softly. “So, Julian. Do you like dog parks?”

Julian braced an excited hand on the swell of Eskel’s arm (and my gods it was firm), “I would love to go to the dog park...but will it be odd if we just show up, without a dog?”

Eskel laughed and Julian felt his knees go a bit wobbly and he tucked his arm around Eskel’s for support. He noticed Eskel glance down. Ah, right, a bit forward. Easy Jaskier. Julian smoothly transitioned to holding his cup with both hands and Eskel smirked privately, appreciating the non-verbal understanding. “No, not really. We can find a bench if it’s not too cold, lots of people come by and watch. Not everyone in the city can have an animal, people are pretty understanding of onlookers.” Julian still looked skeptical, “c’mon, it’s not like going to a playground. I promise we won’t be creepy.”

“Well...” Jaskier smiled, flipping his hair out of his eyes, “lead the way.” 

Eskel walked slowly, stretching their time (and his legs) as much as he could. They made polite, easy small talk, finding little details about each other as they walked.

It turned out that they had surprisingly similar tastes in music, and Jaskier was both pleased and intimidated to learn that Lambert doubled as a DJ on weekends at one of the more popular clubs downtown. He was further surprised to learn that their father owned and operated one of the oldest Italian restaurants in the city and was quite famous because of it—he’d opened it as an homage to his Italian wife when she passed away unexpectedly—and while Papa Vesemir himself was Polish, he’d learned to cook from the best. 

It seemed they were a culinary family, in fact. Both Lambert and Geralt had trained in professional settings—Geralt had a background in baking, while Lambert had trained on the line with his father. Eskel, it turned out, preferred to be behind the bar. He liked people. Enjoyed making drinks. His father always joked that he had the “magic touch.” Every drink he made always came out tasting better, even if he followed the recipe to a T.

“So, why the coffee shop?” Julien asked as they rounded the corner of the dog park. They both smiled as they saw fluffballs of all shapes and sizes bounding around, and Eskel led them to a small bench.

He kicked his feet out in front of him and sipped his own coffee thoughtfully. “It was something we all knew how to do, and we saw a niche missing in the neighborhood. We had originally wanted to make it a bit more of a hub for artists and public resources—you know, host workshops, put up fliers, put artists’ work on the walls to sell. It isn’t quite where we want it yet, but it’s our old neighborhood. Wanted to give something back to the community. Plus, we like having regulars. You don’t get the same thing with restaurants. Cafes, though, you can get to know people better. Build loyalty.” 

Julian sat for a moment, looking at Eskel with a deeper appreciation than he already had. “You’re amazing,” he breathed, the words spilling from his lips without so much as a second thought. 

Eskel flushed even deeper, his neck a very pretty shade of pink. “I wouldn’t say all that...” 

“But I would,” Julian nodded, downing the remainder of his tea. “You’ve created something beautiful in a place that’s meaningful to you with your family, that’s amazing. And I’m allowed to say that, because I personally decide what is and is not amazing.”

“Fair enough,” Eskel raised an eyebrow and hid a smirk behind another sip of coffee. “It’s just... well everyone’s gone and opened up a coffee shop now, and it’s getting harder to see where our niche still sits. It’s a diverse neighborhood, we don’t want to alienate anyone, but we have to stay open... ah, I dunno. I suppose anything seems unremarkable if you’ve been waist-deep in the logistics for long enough.” 

“Do you have open mic nights?” 

“What?” 

“Open mic nights, you know, local artists bring their instruments, read poetry, play music, promote new albums while people buy alcohol and food?” 

Eskel tilted his head, “Huh...” 

“Yeah. Huh.” Julian nudged Eskel’s shoulder playfully. 

“The only issue with that is hours. We’d have to hire more staff and/or open later in the day so we can stay open.” 

“You could man a proper bar again,” Julian sang, jiggling his foot at the end of his crossed leg. 

Eskel reached an arm up and over and around Julian’s shoulder, “Julian, either you’re a remarkable person and I don’t know what on earth you could possibly want with me... or you’ve been sent by one of our competitors to play a long con and put us out of business.”

Julian tried valiantly to hide the shiver that ran down his spine just with the proximity, the weight of Eskel’s arm resting comfortably on his shoulders. “Well, if I told you that, then I’d have to kill you,” Julian smirked. Eskel threw his head back and laughed, reveling in the rejuvenating aura of the delight of a human that had deposited himself at his side.

“Hmmm, shall we keep walking? Or—I don’t want to keep you if you’ve got things to do,” his gaze on Julian was sincere and unassuming and the young musician was certain he’d never had less sense of any ulterior motives than he did in this moment. 

“I should drop my things home before work, actually. But we can walk for a bit in the same direction if you like.” 

Eskel shrugged, “Sure! Which way are we headed?” 

“I’m an Eastender,” Julian smirked. “Off we go!” He offered his elbow for Eskel to take, which he did—a little tentatively and far more gently than Julian would ever have expected from someone so... physically imposing.

Eskel could feel the persistent thrum of blood under his skin, but not in a way that signalled any particular desire. He felt comfortable, more content than he had been in a very long time, and he felt like he could easily waste an entire day doing exactly what they’d been doing for the last hour. Walking, talking, laughing... 

“What are you thinking about?” Julian asked, looking up at Eskel and stealing his breath in the same movement.

“I’m—uh—“ he cleared his throat again, “I’m thinking about how pleasant this has been and... also how comfortable I feel. I—well, I get the jitters, usually. With this kind of thing Which is not to say I haven’t still got them but,” they stopped walking for a moment, and Eskel turned to face his date, “what I’m trying to say is you’re very comfortable to be around. And that’s new.” 

“Wow... honesty. I wasn’t expecting that.” 

“I’m sorry did-did I...?” 

“Just make me more impressed?” That damn smile, “yes, I’m afraid you did. How tragic.”

Just like that, Eskel was lost again, caught up in those eyes that shone with an enigmatic innocence and penetrating observation that kept him looking and left him speechless. And Julian... well Julian was uncharacteristically at a loss for words in front of this stunningly kind, unbearably-gentle man he'd impulsively taken a chance on just a few hours ago because of a hunch. 

Eskel wondered whether Julian had leaned a bit closer during their few seconds of silence and countered, leaning forward a little himself. But he didn't want to make the young man think he was in it for the wrong reasons. The fact that he was older and larger wasn't lost on him, and the last thing he wanted was for Julian to feel any pressure. Those bright blue eyes flitted to Eskel's lips, and he swallowed, waiting. But Julian's intuition was too strong—Eskel was hesitating. Instead of following his eyes to the full, soft-looking lips in front of him, Julian placed his hands on Eskel's chest and dispersed the tension. 

“If we don’t keep walking I’m going to freeze my ass off,” Julian finally said. 

Eskel huffed a small laugh. “Come on then,” he jutted his chin, and the two started walking again. 

After a brief silence, Julian spoke, suddenly worried that Eskel felt rejected in some way, “For what it’s worth, I also feel quite comfortable. With you, I mean.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I find I’m starting to move away from the Village scene. It’s always nice to have a community, of course, be able to go to a bar and know you’re in good company but... in the city, everyone’s trying on identities and—it’s all well and good, they should, but it’s just... well, it was fun for a while. I just want to play music and make people happy.” 

“Hm. I can relate to that.”

Julian stopped at the top of the street that would lead him to his apartment, not really wanting the evening to end, wondering whether Eskel was aware exactly how much he’d brightened Julian’s day. 

“C-would you...I mean, if I- or-“ Eskel stuttered, his fingers fiddling at his sides. 

“Go on...” Julian crooked his head with a gentle smile. 

“Would you mind if I came to one of your shows?”

Julian closed his hands around Eskel’s shoulders and looked directly into his eyes. “Good God, please come to one of my shows so I can look at a face that wants to be there instead of my bored friends.” 

“Well, I’m sorry it has to be my face,” Eskel fumbled in his self-consciousness, hearing the sound of his own distasteful insecurity. He grimaced inwardly. bad form, Eskel. 

“Hm. Clearly, you haven’t met my pimply weak-chinned-not-at-all-utterly-dashing friends.” It was so easy. Ludicrously easy, the way Julian made Eskel smile in that moment. It truly was a remarkable feat, one that none of Eskel’s former failed romances had ever navigated as easily, or as quickly.

“Thank you,” Eskel said quietly, only for Julian’s ears. 

“Whatever for?” Julian’s brow crinkled adorably and Eskel wanted to smooth the creases away with his thumbs. 

“For...for being bold. Because I know I wouldn’t have.”

“Oh please. This is all stage presence and bravado. I’ve been on the verge of a nervous breakdown since I wrote my number on that napkin. Listen, I’ve—ahh I hate to do this but I really have got to run. We can text later or I’ll pop by the cafe tomorrow and—“ 

“Absolutely, do your thing, I don’t want to make you late. Let me know when you’re free and we’ll grab dinner.” 

“I’ll check my schedule tonight. Should be free in the next few days. Have a good night, Eskel. I mean that.” Julian turned to go, but turned back, quickly pecking a kiss to Eskel’s right cheek, leaving the man standing with a half-smile of surprise on his face as he watched his new love interest scurry into his apartment.

Eskel walked back to the coffee shop, his cheeks pained from the smile that still hadn’t faded. The little bell above the door chimed and Geralt looked up from where was wiping down the counter, and Eskel heard a loud clang as Lambert dropped a metal pan and came running to the front of the now-empty cafe.

Eskel stood in front of his brothers. Geralt’s hand stopped where it was mid-wipe and Lambert fidgeted where he stood, hands on his hips. “So??”

Eskel hadn’t seen Lambert this energetic in a long time, and stood silently, drinking in his little brother’s excitement. Geralt came out from behind the counter, “Eskel. I don’t want to beat it out of you, but you’re leaving me with very few options.” 

“Nah, Geralt, you gotta use smaller words. He’s clearly having a stroke. Eskel!” Lambert clapped loudly, “How did. It go. With Pretty Boy. C’mon, we’re tryna close up here!”

Eskel finally spoke, “I—yeah, it was great. I, uh, I really like him.” 

“Fucking finALLY, BROTHER, THAT’S FUCKIN’ AMAZING!” Lambert practically jumped on Eskel, and Geralt sauntered over to put an arm around his shoulder. “You call Dad yet?” 

“No, I want to wait. I want to make sure this time. Don’t wanna get his hopes up. Plus he’s... well, he’s a bit younger—“ 

Lambert cut him off, “Whoa, I’m gonna stop you right there. What do you always do?” 

“Self-sabotage.” 

“Exactly. So shut up with that shit. You like him, yes?” 

“Yes. Definitely, very much.” 

“And he likes you.” 

“Well I mean—“ 

“That wasn’t a question. He likes you. End of discussion. He’s an adult, let him decide what he wants. Geralt?” 

“Surprisingly sound logic, coming from you. Frightening, actually.”

Eskel nodded along as his brothers bickered back and forth. He felt like he was floating on air, without a tether to the ground. 

“Oh, fuck, he’s really gone for him isn’t he?” Lambert muttered, watching Eskel’s eyes glaze over once more.

Eskel smirked and shook his head, “Fuck off, Lambert.” He playfully shoved his brother’s head to the side and went to count out the till and take it downstairs. He just sat down by the safe when his phone pinged.

Free for dinner day-after-tomorrow, playing a gig tomorrow night and Friday. Which would you prefer first?

Eskel smiled and typed out a response of his own, sending it before he could rethink it. Could I come to tomorrow’s gig and take you to dinner Thursday? I really want to see you again.

He felt his breath immediately quicken, but his hand was steady as he waited for a reply. 

*...* 

*...* 

*...* 

Oh Jesus God please just reply...

Gig tomorrow is at 8:30, Gibson’s Pub in Corktown. $5 cover and also $5 Mill St. on tap. Dinner on Thursday it is. Not fussy, but nothing too spicy. Your choice 😊

Not quite sure what we should do for dinner, but I’m sure I’ll think of something. I won’t miss it for the world. Meanwhile, Eskel knew exactly where he’d be going for dinner. He shot off a text to his father and requested a quiet table for 2 at his restaurant. Papa Vesemir never asked too many questions, but he knew he’d have to explain later.

If you have the opportunity to save the world rather than listen to me play Wonderwall at someone’s request, please do. You can hear that literally any time you want.

For my favorite son, what wouldn’t I do?

Eskel replied to both: That’s a tall order. Watching you begrudgingly play Wonderwall could let me die a happy man.

Thanks, Pops. I know you’re not working that night, just tell Giulio nothing fancy, okay? Just a normal two-top.

Eskel’s phone dinged twice more: Oh my gods, you really are trying to kill me aren't you? You’re too sweet ;)

Mhm.

Eskel continued on with Julian, content with leaving Vesemir to finish his night. Don’t get me wrong, there would be a deep amusement in knowing how much you definitely hate that song by now.

Oh, I absolutely despise it and it needs to go die horribly in a dumpster somewhere. At least now I’ll have a confidante tomorrow evening. You know, someone to really share my suffering with.

Will you play any of your originals? 

Would you like me to?

Only if you want. I understand if you’d rather not share them right away. 

Julian was quickly realizing the extent to which he had, very much, struck a gold mine. Part of him couldn’t help but wonder what was waiting around the corner to make things not work out This Time. But he shoved those thoughts back. I share my music every week with people who’ve either heard it all before, or are too distracted to really care. Mostly Tinder dates trying to gain hipster points. Please. I would be so happy to know you’re there and actually wanting to listen.

Eskel felt his heart flutter in his chest as he rested his elbows on the desk with a crooked smile. 

I can’t wait, I’m sure they’re wonderful :) Eskel wasn’t really one to use emojis, but this one just kinda...slipped out.

He was whistling by the time he got to the top of the stairs and his brothers were already waiting for him, jackets on, lights out, floors mopped, door ready to be locked. 

“Dinner? Eskel said, trying to wipe what he knew was a stupid grin off his face. 

“Where to, lover boy?” 

Eskel deferred to Geralt, “Hmmm. China down?” 

“Mother Dumpling?” Eskel offered, pulling his collar up as they headed out, Geralt and Lambert sounding their agreement. With the cafe door closed and locked, the three brothers headed out into the evening.

[thorniest-rose]

reddie halloween prompt #6 pumpkin

Eddie had lived in denial for a long time. It was a denial that had clung to him since he’d been a little boy. Never letting himself get dirty. Being scared of falling ill. Not letting his eyes linger too much on the handsome men he saw in the pharmacy or at the grocery store. And never letting himself enjoy food. Because food meant gluttony. It meant allergies and intolerances. It meant turning out like his mother, who he watched grow bigger and rounder every year.  

He spent years like that, not letting himself enjoy anything. Convincing himself he was so frail that all he could eat were egg whites and leafy greens or the leanest chicken with a plate of boiled vegetables. No gluten. No sugar. Hardly any fats or carbs. For more than 20 years he was as austere as a Puritan. And he told himself it was for the best. 

Until Richie, that was. Until they had finally defeated the clown. 

Things started to change then. Slowly at first but surely. Eddie left his sham of a marriage; he came out of the closet; he admitted to Richie one night, as the two of them shared a bowl of ice cream by Richie's swimming pool, that he was in love with him. And then, after he let himself try a slice of challah one day at a coffee shop downtown, toasted gently and spread with honey, Eddie let himself fall. 

First, Eddie made banana bread using some old, overripe bananas on their kitchen table. Then he baked chewy oatmeal cookies one morning after he’d served up their overnight oats. Before Eddie knew it, he was cooking up a storm: he ordered cookbooks, watched videos, bookmarked blogs. And he started to love the act of cooking. Looked forward to planning out their meals and going grocery shopping. There were fluffy ricotta pancakes in the morning; a cheese and spinach quiche with salad in the afternoon, chicken thighs baked in white wine, olive oil and parmigiano reggiano in the evening. And then, teasingly, a silky mousse or sliver of cheesecake.  

Richie, who had the biggest appetite out of anyone Eddie had ever known, scarfed down everything Eddie made as quickly as a dog. He'd been happy to see Eddie enjoy food more and actively encouraged his cooking.

What Eddie hadn't expected was how sexy Richie had found it. How he watched Eddie cook with his blue eyes lit up with some kind of mischief. Sometimes coming up behind him so he could trail his hands over Eddie’s hips as he cooked, snaking a hand around his chest to tweak a nipple through his t-shirt, or to press the flat of his palm to Eddie’s lower stomach in a vaguely territorial touch that had Eddie half-panting as he stirred. 

Eddie always kicked Richie out eventually, swatting him away with a wooden spoon or elbowing him in the stomach. But it didn't stop Eddie from growing ruby-cheeked or getting hard in his pants. Something Richie definitely noticed as he chuckled and said, "You feeling okay there, baby?"

Which is probably why he should have seen this coming. Not that he thought it would happen that morning, as he prepared a homemade pumpkin pie for the first time. That he’d end up pushed up against the counter in their spacious, airy kitchen with Richie's jeans shoved down his thighs and his cock balls deep inside Eddie's ass. 

The pie looks good. Eddie had completed the crust, and he’s busy with the filling: mixing eggs, spices and fresh pumpkin purée in a bowl. Or at least he was trying to. Because Richie’s cock was nudging his prostate, and every time Eddie tried to focus on what he was doing, Richie would tilt his hips slightly and brush up against his sweet spot.

Richie had spent the whole time cooing into his ear, telling him what a good boy he was, as he stroked Eddie's hips like he was a skittish, easily frightened domestic pet.

The whisk clatters to the counter as Eddie lets out a high-pitched moan. 

“I can’t do it,” he says, his head hanging down between his shoulders. 

Richie leans in and swipes his tongue against the bare skin at his feverish nape.

“I think you can,” he says. “Come on, baby, you’re doing so well.”

Richie hadn’t fucked him that morning like he usually did, making the excuse that he had an important Zoom meeting. That he had to get ready for some presentation with the big suits about the future of his show. Eddie had said okay, that made sense, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed as Richie kissed him on the cheek and disappeared out the room. 

But it turns out this was why. Richie had been saving it for this. 

Eddie tries not to moan at how deep Richie is inside him. There’s nothing between them, not even a layer of latex, and it’s almost too much. Richie’s cock is stretching him wide - with a shiver, he can imagine how obscene his hole must look around Richie’s cock - and on each small thrust into him, Eddie can feel Richie’s balls brush against his thighs. 

“I hate you,” he mutters as his arms tremble, hands clenched so hard around the edge of the counter that they're porcelain white.

Richie tsks against his neck. “That’s not a very nice thing to say to your finance, is it? When he takes such good care of you.”

Eddie laughs, and it sounds manic. “Is this what you think taking care of me looks like?”

He expects a joke, or a witty retort. Instead what he gets is Richie’s fingers tightening to a bone-bruising grip on his hips. Eddie would cry out, goes to, except Richie shoots out a hand and shoves three thick fingers into Eddie’s mouth, stifling the sound. 

With an edge of steel Richie says, “Why don’t you stop talking back and do as you’re told?”

Eddie starts to say “okay”, only he can’t, not with Richie’s fingers in his mouth, how they press down his tongue. So he nods his head as much as he can to get the point across. He’ll make the pie. He’ll be good. 

“That's better,” Richie says.

He pushes his fingers deeper into Eddie’s mouth, getting them wet to the knuckle, the force of it making Eddie gag. It feels like a warning. That Eddie better be good because he's not in the mood to play. Then he pulls them out as fast as he’d pushed them in, bringing them back to Eddie's hip.

"Go on then," he says, but this time there's the hint of a laugh in his voice. Like he finds humiliating Eddie like this funny.

Eddie feels winded, the corners of his mouth feel bruised, but he picks up the whisk again and starts swirling the filling. It’s not as fast as he’d usually do it, but it’s the best he can do. Behind him, Richie starts to pick up the pace a little, pulling out and pushing his cock deeper into Eddie’s needy, clenching hole. He hits his prostate again, making him arch back against the tall line of Richie’s body. 

“R-Richie, I can’t,” he says, on the verge of dropping the whisk again. Of abandoning the pie and begging Richie to fuck him. 

But he knows that won't do.

From behind him Richie says, “Why don’t you shut the fuck up? I thought you could be good? Do you want me to pull out?”

Eddie shakes his head. He doesn't. Even though it was maddening: the torturous, slow push of Richie’s cock inside him, the feeling of his zipper rubbing up against his ass, the drip of precome at the end of Eddie’s dick where he’d grown flushed and hard against the counter. But the thought of Richie pulling out and leaving him there while he went to the bedroom to jerk off was even worse. He has a thought of Richie coming all over their bedsheets, of wasting his come instead of depositing it deep inside Eddie where it belonged, and he almost whines.

“No Richie, I want it so bad, please. Please don’t pull out,” he begs, in a voice he doesn’t even recognise. Something high and wanton. A voice he didn’t even know he could make until Richie laid him down on his bed one night all those months ago and pushed inside him for the first time. 

“Beautiful boy,” Richie says sweetly. “Finish it, come on,” he murmurs.

So Eddie does. As Richie continues his slow, tormenting pace, Eddie finishes whisking the filling and lifts the bowl with shaky fingers so he can pour it into the pastry shell. He almost drops it, but manages to right the bowl at the last second. Afterwards he stares at it: the beautiful, flaky, butter pastry crust with its autumnal filling, and that floaty feeling of satisfaction comes over him. He’d done good. He did exactly as Richie told him.

“I’ve done it, Richie,” he sighs, his voice sounding faraway. “I’ve finished the pie.”

He melts when Richie kisses him on the side of his neck, scraping his teeth over his pulse point where it jumps rapidly.

“I knew you could do it, Eddie, I knew you could make me happy.”

And Richie rewards him for it. With one hand he pulls Eddie’s hips back and with the other he pushes Eddie’s cheek down against the counter until Eddie's bent at an obscene angle. At a fuckable angle, Eddie thinks with a shiver. But that’s the last coherent thought he has for a long time because a moment later Richie’s pulling out until just the tip of his dick is spearing Eddie open, and then he does what Eddie’s wanted all this time. He shoves back inside, the squelch of the lube pornographically loud in their quiet kitchen, and he rails him hard, letting that hidden, ferocious side come out.

It’s the hardest fuck Eddie’s had in days, and fuck it feels so good, his ass bouncing off Richie’s sharp hips on every thrust, Richie's cock punching his tiny hole open, and the low-pitched growl coming from Richie’s throat making his dick drool at the tip.

It's something he can't believe he's denied himself for so long.

"I kind of want to eat this pumpkin pie out of you," Richie suddenly says. "Would you let me do that? Just finger it inside of your dumb cunt and then eat it out of you?"

And it shouldn't sound hot. It should sound ridiculous. But it doesn't stop Eddie from crying out or his balls drawing up.

"I'm going to-"

He cuts off on a high whine as Richie reaches around and grabs him in warning.

"You better not. Not until I say."

Eddie nods, and Richie starts fucking him again, hammering his prostate on every push inside him, muttering so filthy it makes Eddie flush all the way down to his chest.

And when Richie finally tells him to come he does, clenching around him until he shoots sticky white all over the counter. 

“Good boy,” Richie says as he pulls his cock out to smear the sticky head against the sore skin at his hole, making Eddie quiver. “Now let's go for that money shot. How much do you think you can make Daddy come?"

And Eddie, with gusto, shows him.

[dbnightingale24]

Last Chance At Redemption

Chapter 22

~~

Sorry this took so long! I was debating whether or not to split this chapter in half, but came to the conclusion that it’s fine as it is. This story only has a few more chapters left, so I want to do it as much justice as possible!! Anywho, I hope everyone is having a great week thus far, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!!

Warnings: Mentions of Drug Use, Heartbreak, Swearing, Arguing (kinda not really), Drinking, Dialogue Heavy,...I think that’s it?

Word Count: 2276

Song(s) That Inspired This Chapter:

A Time To Give - White Lies

Over Those Hills - Hayley Williams

Every Time You Go Away - Hall and Oates (the live version tho)

I Do Not Give Consent For My Works/Stories To Be Posted Anywhere Else.

~~

Ransom pushed himself up off the bathroom floor, blinking a bit before having a faint memory of the previous night and how he had gotten there. Though, it really wasn’t that hard considering it had become routine for him. He’d wake up at any random time, do whatever writing bullshit needed to get done, get high as fuck, drink until he couldn’t stand, throw up, drink some more, then he’d finally pass out.

Sometimes, he’d bother to eat.

However, someone pounding on his door was new. As he slowly picked himself up off the floor, he decided to ignore it. Whoever it was would go away eventually. Then he heard the voice. The shrill voice that always made him want to hit...something.

“RANSOM! I KNOW YOU’RE HOME, OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!” Linda screeched. 

He grumbled something along the lines of “fuck off”, before he looked himself over in the mirror, and not caring that he looked like a complete pile of shit. He forced himself downstairs and slowly opened the door. “What?” he answered, voice gravelly and a bit sore from throwing up the night before.

“She left you, didn’t she?” Linda stated more than asked, pushing her way into his house.

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, you know very well who. Abigail.”

“What makes you think we were together?”

“I was at the Christmas dinner,” Linda stated flatly as she pushed past him, “you and this house look like shit. Clean yourself up.”

“Mother, I am in no mood to-”

“You have too much good going on, Ransom. One thing goes wrong and you throw it all away? You think this is making my father proud? Your grandfather? Wallowing in your self pity and misery? Get your shit together.”

“What are you even talking about? I’m getting shit done!”

“The people from the publishing company called me. They say you come in inebriated, your short with the staff, smell of booze, and don’t make sense half the time. Grow up. This little display isn’t going to win her back.”

“Who even says I want her back?”

“I’m onto you. You act like a fool, but you’re not fooling me. I won’t let you tarnish my father’s legacy and I won’t let you destroy yourself.”

“Since when do you give a shit about what I do to myself?”

“Since Abigail gave me a talking to at Christmas dinner,” Linda sighed as she came across the picture of Harlan and Ransom. “He loved this picture so much,” she sniffed.

“She gave me that for Christmas.”

“That woman has good taste. Get yourself together so you can get her back. The company said you want to push back the release date. Why?”

“I’m missing a very important section and I refuse to publish it without it.”

“Then rewrite it.”

“It’ll take forever to rewrite and-”

“You’re clearly not getting up to anything good here. If you start today and focus, you can have it done in time.”

“I just need more time-”

“Stop. Don’t one bad thing ruin a major good thing.”

“She is the only major good thing and I fucked that up.”

“Then un-fuck it up. You clearly love her and want her back. Grow up and deal with the tough things that happen instead of doing what you always do. Throwing a fit and freaking out,” Linda snapped.

Ransom scowled in frustration. He hated when she was right. “Fine.”

“The date and time are still on for Harlan’s. So, I would advise you to get started on whatever you need done, today. I’ll send someone by to clean all this up.”

“I can clean up my own mess.”

“I’m sending someone, you have work to do. You want to prove us all wrong so bad, then stop making excuses and get to work,” Linda stated firmly.

Ransom merely nodded and Linda turned to leave out. She gave the living room one last look over and sighed, before walking out and closing the door behind her. Ransom looked over the mess he created and cursed himself. Linda was right. He really did need to start dealing with his shit. Losing control and being hot headed had already cost him so much. It’s what killed Harlan and it’s what lost him Abigail. He was well aware that if he didn’t get his shit together soon, he’d up alone forever and in an early grave.

He made a choice right then and there to do better. Be better. If he really wanted to get Abigail back, he’d need to show her that he was serious. He would do and be all the things he had promised her in the beginning. As a small and dedicated start, he decided that he would only drink water for a while. It’s not like his body hadn’t been begging for it anyway.

Halfway up the steps, he heard a soft knock on his door. “What does she want now?” Ransom muttered as he made his way back down the steps and quickly opened the door. “I told you I’d...oh.” He stopped short when he looked up and saw who it was. “Abigail.”

“I uh..,” she started, as she looked over him. He looked tired, worn out, and a bit of a beard. She wasn’t hating that. “I’m sorry, I...I didn’t...I wouldn’t have-”

“You’re here,” Ransom blurted out before he could stop himself.

The small bit of hope that appeared in his tired eyes made her heart shatter. She missed him so much and she felt like such an asshole. She could’ve mailed him the damn thing, but she wanted to see him so badly. She needed to see him. She had taken the selfish route and now she hated herself for it.

“Um, I can’t stay. Work at the restaurant,” she lied. “I forgot to put this with your things when I pa...packed your things,” she muttered, passing him the file as her eyes shifted to the mess behind him. What had she done to him? What had she done to them? “I gotta get back. I’ll see you around, Hugh,” she said softly, turning to leave.

“Wait,” he called softly, grabbing her arm. God, he missed her so much. “I um...Linda is throwing a party at Harlan’s-”

“Marta’s house.”

“Marta’s place and I want you to come. It’s to celebrate the release of the book. It’s in two weeks and it would mean a lot to me if you came. It would mean so much. I don’t really think I could have done this without you.”

“I’m sure you could have-”

“I couldn’t,” he said truthfully.

“I don’t know. Besides the way things ended with us, it’s not like your family likes me all that much.”

“Fuck them.”

“Hugh.”

“What? This is a party for me to show that I finally did something right. You pushed and encouraged me to do this and I love you. I want you there. I know...I know I have no right after how I treated you, but if you could please just show up...just for an hour or two?”

That had her heartstrings pulling. She missed him so much and missed the way he made her feel. “Maybe.”

“I’ve invited Taylor and Jeff too, so you won’t be completely alone.”

“I promise I’ll think about it,” she smiled at him. “I’ve gotta get back.”

“Yeah, of course. Thank you for these, I’ve been looking all over for them,”

“Anytime,” she smiled before making her way down the steps.

She had never started her car and gotten out of a place so fast. She couldn’t let him see her cry. It was her own fault anyway. What the hell had she just gotten herself into?

**

Fast Forward A Week

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”Abigail groaned, while Taylor laughed softly.

“You didn’t wanna hear about it, why bring it up? How was I supposed to know that you’d end up going over?”

“Yeah well, that was a week ago and I’ve only got a week to decide,” Abigail huffed, taking a seat in-between Taylor and Heidi.

It had been a week since Abigail had seen Ransom, and she couldn’t make heads or tails of what to do. Taylor had shown up 2 days ago, and Abigail had been pestering her about it the whole time.

The three of them had been binging on mafia movies and junk all afternoon, trying to help her come to a conclusion. Abigail had talked Heidi into coming over after she convinced her to leave the kids with Lisa. Heidi was rightfully nervous at first, but Abigail brought up the point that Lisa said she wanted to change and be better. Still, to be on the safe side, Heidi called every other hour to make sure everything was going okay.

“I think you should go,” Heidi chimed in after taking a sip of beer.

“Oh? What are your reasons?”

“You both love each other and it’s obviously taken a toll on both of you. You’ve lost at least four pounds and you said he wrecked his house and looked a mess. Plus, he basically said that it was all his fault. While that isn’t true, him saying that he had a major part in what went wrong is a huge deal.”

“How is it not all his fault?” Taylor snapped.

“Abigail saw the signs when it wasn’t a big deal and did nothing. She didn’t speak up, she didn’t really do much talk to him about it cause he’d get irritated, and she waited until it got out of hand to really get in his face about. No, she wasn’t the one who instigated things, but she let them go on for far too long and didn’t acknowledge it,” Heidi stated simply.

“Therapy really is doing you some good,” Taylor muttered before turning her attention back to Abigail. “So, what’s it gonna be?”

“Ugh, I guess I’m gonna go. That’s the best thing to do isn’t it?”

“Is that what you believe the best thing is to do?” Heidi questioned.

Abigail was quiet for a beat, weighing all the options in her head, before sighing and laying back on the sofa. “I’m gonna go.”

So for the rest of the evening, they sat around shopping around for the best dress , since Abigail decided that nothing in her closet was good enough to wear. Both Taylor and Heidi tried to get her to calm down, but it was no use. All of them knew that she wouldn’t be calm until after the party, and depending on how it went, she’d probably be antsy after that too. By the time Heidi left, Abigail had gone through a bottle of wine.

Taylor stayed up to watch movies with her, but eventually she needed to tap out too. Left to her own devices, Abigail did her best to fall asleep, but it resulted in nothing more than tossing and turning. Finally, she sat up and decided that she wasn’t going to go. It was too much too fast, and she wasn’t ready. Plus, it would be their first time spending time together since their breakup and his book launch party was not the best place for that.

She was ready to get out of bed and tell Taylor until she looked over at her nightstand and saw the music box he got her for Christmas.

‘And throughout all Eternity

I forgive you, you forgive me.’

She had forgiven him. She had always forgiven him and she would always forgive him. She was his and he was hers. There was nothing they couldn’t overcome. There was nothing they couldn’t forgive if they were willing work it out.

Abigail crawled back into her bed feeling a bit lighter and slightly more at ease. She was going to that book launching party.

**

taglist: @jennmurawski13 @goldenfightergir @princess-evans-addict @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @sweetflowerdreams

[officialwittek]

pt. 2

*gif is not mine* 

word count: 1,987 

“SAGE” a voice yells, my eyes shoot open and I fall out of the bed, David laughs loudly holding his vlog camera

“Fuck you” I groan, standing up I notice I was changed and all my makeup was taken off

“Wow I was so productive even while drunk, I even took my makeup off bitches” I say, collecting my things off the floor and plugging my phone into the charger

“Nah, it was Jeff. You passed out after taking shots with Zane and Ilya. So he carried you into Natalie’s room and took care of you before he left” David explained, tucking his camera under his arm

“Oh nice, where’s Natalie?” I ask, putting on some shorts and walking to the kitchen with David

“She went to get coffee for everyone” He says, I laugh quietly seeing all of our friends passed out on the floor or the couch

“I guess I’ll make breakfast. Then I’ll help clean after we eat” I say, David nods and follows me to the kitchen

I grab some eggs, bacon, and pancake mix and start making breakfast for everyone. I notice Jeff and Todd aren’t here and assume they went to work out so I make extra food just in case they come by after. I shoot Jeff a text and ask him but I just get left on read. Weird. I pout a little and David suddenly takes my phone.

“Why did Jeff leave you on read?” He asks, I shrug and David takes out his own phone and texts him and of course gets an immediate response

“Interesting, whatever. I ain’t tripping ‘bout no hoe” I say, spooning the scrambled eggs into a big bowl

After I finished making breakfast, Natalie walks in with the coffee, Todd helping her carry everything. Our friends wake up one by one and join us in the kitchen

“Sage, baby marry me” Zane says, I laugh and take everyones empty plates and put them in the dishwasher

“Baby.. you couldn’t pay me enough money” I reply, our group laughing even harder

I wash the dishes while Matt helps me put them away. He also offers to help me clean the rest of the house. I take the soiled couch blankets and throw them in the wash while Matt takes the trash out. I grab the empty beer cans, solo cups, and hard liquor bottles and take them to the recycling and trash. After about an hour we had David’s house looking as nice as possible. I say bye to David and Natalie before Matt and I head our separate ways for the afternoon.

I finally get home and take a shower. Cleaning David’s house had me in the mood to be productive and Carly was probably with Erin I open our curtains and play some music over the speakers. Quietly singing to myself I take my laundry and start separating the loads before throwing the first one in. I walk to the kitchen and start cleaning out our fridge. Expired foods, old take out, nasty old fruits and veggies. After that I compile a grocery list and send a quick text to Carly to see if she needs anything, she sends me a handful of items and tells me to let her know how much she should PayPal me. I wash the dishes and put everything in their respected cabinets. After a few hours of cleaning and washing laundry, I get dressed to run errands.

I choose some brown patchwork jeans, a white tank top, a chocolate brown oversized zip up jacket with my white Air Force ones. I throw my hair in a ponytail and text Jeff.

Sage: Hi bub, ik you left me on read, but do you want to run errands with me?

Jeff: nah i’m good.

I sigh in annoyance and shove my phone in my purse. I grab my keys and walk down to the parking lot. I get a text from Corinna and Natalie asking if they can tag along with me since they’re bored and I agree, the three of us meeting at David’s house. After they pile into my Honda Civic and we go to the grocery store.

“So.. what’s got you all annoyed?” Corinna asks, I realize my eyebrows have been furrowed the whole time

“Jeff keeps leaving me on read or he’s being dry. Even at breakfast he didn’t even acknowledge me. I mean what the fuck. I would never ever do that to him. The fuck is his problem” I whine, grabbing a carton of oat milk

“Well you did kiss him last night and you haven’t said anything” Nat points out, my eyes widen and my jaws go slack, the two girls giggle at my expression  

“I k-kissed him? I mean shit go me, but now I feel like an asshole” I ask, turning to them and I sigh

“I’m never drinking again” I reply, making them laugh. After a bit more shopping we all go to pay for our stuff.

We stop by my apartment and they help me put the groceries away. We all go back to Dave’s house and hang out for a bit. I start editing some pictures I took for my instagram. While editing Todd, Jeff, Zane, Carly, and Erin walk in. They all come up to me and give me a hug, well except a certain someone. I’ll admit I feel like an asshole about not saying anything but I didn’t know it pissed him off that much. I text and ask if we can talk in the studio and he leaves me on read right in front of my eyes.

I roll my eyes and just sit at the kitchen island alone. Mindlessly scrolling through my phone as I hear some people approaching me. I turn and see Mariah, Carly, and Erin. They immediately knew something was up, my eyebrows were furrowed so we walk outside to my car.

“It’s fucking Jeff. So Nat and Corinna told me what happened last night and I obviously felt bad. So I texted Jeff about five minutes and asked him if we could talk in the podcast studio for a bit and he left me on read. He probably hates me now. He’s been ignoring me all day” I cry, Mariah rubs my shoulder to help console me

“I’m not going out with you guys tonight. I think I’m just going to stay home” I say, the three of them nod

“Well then all the girls are coming over tonight. I hate seeing princess peach being sad” Mariah says, princess peach is her nickname for me since I love anything to do with peaches and everyone treats me like a princess since I’m the youngest member

“Finee, bring wine and I’ll make pasta” I say, finally letting a small smile appear as we head back to the house

“Where the fuck did you guys go?” Heath asks, wrapping his arms around Mariah as I pretend to throw up

“We went to make out real quick” I retort, walking over to collect my things

“Nat, Corinna let’s go babes” I call, they excitedly grab their things and we hop in Nat’s Mercedes

“Oh c’mon guys” Todd says, but Carly promptly stops the rest from coming

“No we’re having a girl’s night. Sage isn’t feeling well, no boys allowed. Especially Jeff” she says, mumbling the last part so only the girls could hear and we let out giggles

“Fuck men” I yell, closing Nat’s door as we head to my place with Carly

Nat drops us off while her, Mariah, and Corinna get some alcohol. I grab the ingredients from the pantry and fridge. I decide to make a simple pasta with garlic, cherry tomatoes and basil. While I was cooking the other girls come back and we all gather in the kitchen. Talking about everything and anything, Nat starts snapping pictures on a disposable camera. After a few minutes the food was ready and we all gathered in our living room to watch some movies. After some bickering we all decide on Always Be My Maybe.

“T-that was so good” I cry, heavy tears streaming down my face, I look and see them all with tears in their eyes

“I hate being single” I whine, grabbing a pillow and crying into it and the others start laughing at me

“Sure sure” Corinna says, taking all of our plates to the sink. After countless bottles of wine we started dipping into the vodka. Natalie decides to stay sober for tonight  since she’ll probably have to take everyone else home

“Wait hold on David’s calling” Natalie says, I turn the music down and sit there nursing my vodka bottle and another bottle of sparkling pink lemonade

“Yea I’m not sure Sage is in any shape to go anywhere” She comments with a laugh, watching Corinna take the bottle and pour more vodka in my mouth

“Uhm I don’t know, let me talk to her” Nat says, her smile falling as she covers the mic with her hand

“Is it cool if the boys come here? They’re tired of staying at David’s and he needs drunk Sage content” She asks, I look at the rest of the girls and sigh

“I guess” I reply, Natalie purses her lips before replying

“No, we said it was girl’s night. You can get drunk Sage content any day of the week” She says, soon there’s some jiggling by our door as Natalie and Carly quickly run to the door and lock the door with the latch above the handle

“David get the fuck out of here” Natalie yells, stopping them from kicking our door down

“It’s ok I guess, just let them in” I reply, getting off the floor and unlocking it, quickly  walking to my balcony and Erin locks the door behind me, knowing I should have some alone time

I play some music on my phone and just sip the vodka in my hand. I take a hit from my puff bar, just enjoying the cool breeze on my skin. I let some tears fall down, thoughts invade my head. Maybe Jeff is just over how clingy I am? Is he tired of being friends with me? I sigh and sink deeper into my chair. I jump when I hear a knock, I quickly wipe the tears off my face and turn. I’m greeted by that dumb face and nod.

“Hey” I said, taking a hit of my puff, watching the vapor disappear as Jeff take a seat next to me

“Hi..” he replies softly, I can feel him burning holes in the side of my head

“Carly said I should probably come talk to you” he continued, I roll my eyes and collect my things

“Thing is, I don’t really want to talk to you anymore ok? This is me, leaving your dumbass on read in real life” I slur, putting my phone in my pants as I reach the door he grabs my wrist

“Please, I know you’re mad and I don’t really know why” Jeff replies, I scoff and set my things back down

“You ignore me all day, LEAVE ME ON READ WHILE I’M TEN FUCKING FEET BEHIND YOU, over a fucking drunk kiss for the vlog. Why would I be mad? You asshole” I yell, finally getting someone to open the door and I storm back in, sitting in the kitchen with the girls

“I DOn’T ReaLlY kNoW WhY You’Re MAd. The fucking NERVE of him” I rant, Nat pats my back as the girls and I talk on the kitchen floor

After another hour everyone leaves and I get ready for bed. Sure, I could’ve actually talked to him and I really was until he asked why I’m mad. I mean what the fuck? Whatever, I set my alarm and slip off into a peaceful sleep.

[evolsinner]

⊱┊31

tomorrow morning arrives.

i did my best attempt at covering up the bruises from yesterday night with some concealer and foundation... if my dad knew what that sick kid did to me, he wouldn’t have a healed bone in his body to rely on.

i stuff some essentials into a backpack and take a final glance around my room. don’t know if i’ll miss it, to be honest. i shut the door.

*ding.*

my phone lights up and i stop at the top of the stairs.

daddy🔐 good morning, love. how’d you sleep?

terrible.

me great xx

daddy🔐 you in any pain, babe?

heaps.

me none.

🎶my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard and they’re like, it’s better than yours damn right it’s better than yours

i sigh and decline his call twice. if i pick up, i know i’ll burst into tears and i know he’ll get mad at theo all over again.

*ding.*

daddy🔐 this is just a moment, and we’re gonna get out of it, i promise. got you some oxycodone just in case. x

doesn’t feel like a ‘moment’ to me.

daddy🔐 eat your breakfast, take your time with your family. i’ll be waiting for you under the sycamore as usual. (:

i head downstairs to them sitting at the breakfast table. this will be difficult. i sit in my usual seat.

“hey, rosé,” maxi smiles with breadcrumbs sprinkled around his mouth.

“school’s coming close to an end,” dad picks up his cup, reading dailymail on his phone. “isn’t it?”

“yeah, yeah,” i reply, eating from a bowl of oats. “just a few more weeks.”

“excited?”

“since when did anyone like school?” i make a valid point.

he takes a sip of his coffee, chuckling, “class of 2018.”

“yeah, has a ring to it, aye?”

“sure does, mate.”

“hey, maxi,” i nudge him, “imma miss ya.”

“yeah, whatevs,” he downplays it, thinking i’m referring to when i’ll stay in the dorms for uni or something.

“oye!” i playfully punch him.

“you’ll come back, yeah? to visit?” the concern is quick to wash over his small pale face.

that was like a punch in the guts, an ache in my tear ducts and a beat skipped too quick. “of course, i’ll visit! i’ll need as many doses of ‘annoying you’ as i can.”

“pinky promise?” he looks up at me with these sad, sad eyes.

i was never one to break promises... “i um.. i promise that i’ll try my best!”

we lock pinkies.

“..y’know, rosé, i’d step on a lego for you..”

“no way? deadass?” i feel incredibly honoured.

he giggles adorably, “deadass.”

i pull him into myself one last time.

“stop, rosé! you’re messing up my hair again!”

“am i now?”

“quit it!”

“hun, c’mon now, don’t do that. you know how much he hates it.”

“yeah, soz, mum.”

-ˋˏ ༻🍷༺ ˎˊ-

“call me right away if you’re in trouble, alright?” in the teachers’ carpark, mr killian waits for me in some comfy clothing in his car. he texts away on his phone, making last~minute arrangements.

“yessir,” i shut the car door after myself.

people are already swarming inside the building which means that the day has started much quicker than i had anticipated. through all of the shouting, i could have sworn i heard theo’s voice echoing my name in the way my mum always says it and that’s just plain creepy!

wasting no time, i think to myself, what the fuck does larissa have first? c’mon, think! oh my god, yes, that’s right. she has history in block 326!

i slide open the door quietly and crouch to stop myself from blocking a boring BNW film the class is following, well, half of them dozing off. with the teacher too busy telling a student off in the back, i quickly sit down on the free desk next to larissa.

“what the hell are you doing in here?” she hisses. “don’t you have health or something?”

“i wanted to see you…” i reply.

"huh?”

“…because it may be the last time i’ll be seeing you ~ in a while, at least.”

“what?” her eyes pop wide open.

“i’m running away,” i inform her, my phone vibrates in my pocket. “with him.”

she rolls her eyes and heaves at the last two words. “rosé, do you have any idea how stupid that sounds?”

“i know, but~”

“but you need to think about this. you can’t just leave.”

“theo found out already so it’s not like we have a choice. and i could not stop thinking about this and, honestly, at this point, i don’t care about my brain anymore. the heart wants what it wants.”

“you’re being unreasonable. you’re just young and in love~”

“larissa,” i stare at her blatantly.

she sighs, her onyx eyes getting watery. “what the heck am i supposed to do without you? everyone here is fake as fuck. i need my best friend by my side so we can laugh at how dumb they all look.”

“awh,” i pout sadly, “stopp, you’re gonna make me cry.”

“ro?”

“yes?”

“i... i love you.”

“naw, la, i love you too.”

“no, i mean, like..”

my phone vibrates again and this time i look at it.

daddy🔐 we need to go. now.

“hey,” i slide off my seat, crouching next to her, “you’ll figure it out like you always do, okay? you’ll be fine without me,” and i hug her tightly. “promise.”

“but i lov..”

“you’ll be fine, i swear.”

“..there’s no changing your mind is there?”

“i’m sorry,” i cringe.

“and to think you were going through that ‘student x teacher wattpad’ phase. ugh, i’m dumb as fuck.”

“if it comes to it, just say you had no idea what was going on, say you didn’t know shit about sir and i, ight?”

“you know?” she pulls away. “i loathe him for stealing my bestie.”

i purse my lips apologetically.

“you better fucking call me every night! and if he ever tries to fucking hurt you~”

“yes, alright, alright! you’re my go~to. love you, best friend.” as i am about to get up, i remember something. “hey, one more thing. stay away from theo. just trust me, okay?”

she frowns, “why?”

i get an incoming call from mr killian and i quietly answer it.

“rosé, babe, you need to get out of there now,” he says with haste. “the security cameras outside my flat just alerted me. the police are at my place; they know.”

[nancythebisexualslutwheeler]

Reddie Tutor!AU

So what if we do a tutor!Eddie AU, where everything is #normal, it’s just shitty, normal HS. So Eddie is a junior and he’s on the track team and he’s little but his speed makes up for it.

He’s smart as hell, for real. In all AP classes and honors. I mean in math they only offer AP Calc as the highest option- which is what you need to pass twelfth grade. It’s not hard, even though it’s AP, the school just needed the extra funding. In Derry, everyone needed extra money.

So he’s smart and does track and that’s about all his mom allows him to do. She barely allows track, but the insurance money from his dad’s death is running out and words like scouts and scholarships made their mark. She never left the house of course, so it was nice for him to be able to have something to himself. It had taken a lot of convincing, but finally it was his. And then his principal who’d wanted him to apply to their student council and run for class president and more things that Eddie’s mother wouldn’t allow him to do, asks him to be a tutor. He will need to dedicate one afternoon after school and his Saturday mornings. He only has two friends, Bev and Ben, who are dating each other, so no one is too worried about him. Not all the time at least. (That’s mean. They’re good friends, he’s just bitter.)

He accepts the job without even asking who he’s tutoring. Mainly because tutoring means they’d have to have a chance of passing the class. Richie Tozier does not have a chance in hell at passing the class.

Cue mean girls style montage... let me tell you about Richie Tozier. He’s a dick. He’s cocky and rude and dirty and he’s 19 and this will be his second go at his senior year. So no, he has no chance of passing.

He can’t very well say no after he’s said yes so on Wednesday afternoon, he’s in the library, in the back corner, to avoid being seen caught dead with the loser, when Richie shows up.

Yadayada when Richie sees him he has a field day.

But eventually the two find an uneasy relationship.

So I’m here for when:

***

Richie gets a D on his first test because it’s not an F!!!! And he pats Eddie so hard on the shoulder he’s sure he’ll have a bruise.

***

One day Richie is staring at Eddie. His legs more precisely.

“What are you wearing?”

“Track shorts,” he holds a leg out. It’s obvious. They’re purple.

Richie rolls his eyes,

“No shit.”

“Why?”

“Practice after this.”

He nods...

“Um, what kind of-“

“Track.”

“Oh no shit.”

“You run?”

He snorts,

“I only run from cops.”

                                             ***

  “Hey I can’t meet on Saturday this week.”  

“Why?” Richie demands. He looks a bit frantic, their test is on Monday. But Eddie also knows it probably has to do with the way Richie put his hand on Eddie’s leg as he drove them home. Eddie had reassured him with a small smile, but he figured the older boy still needed validation.

“I’ve got a meet.”

Richie raises an eyebrow,

“Yeah,” Eddie itches the back of his head.

“Where?”

“Gravesville.”

“Oh.”

“I have one on Friday night too though. Here.”

And Richie makes some dumb excuse about being busy and yet on. Friday night he’s out there. Well, at the bottom of the bleachers right before the fence and he watches Eddie and smokes a cigarette.

And Eddie is so shook and ends up running over to him after like wtf? And Richie’s wearing a leather JACKET and they lean against the fence and chat and Richie lights a cigarette and Eddie can’t take his eyes off of his mouth and then Richie offers him some and Eddie’s like ... ahhh.. but then does and chokes and Richie’s like alright my innocent bon bon, none for you.

                                                          ***

Then Richie starts bringing them coffee on Saturday’s. He’s got a new job. He always makes Eddie’s coffee perfectly. Like he’s memorized it or something. A hazelnut vanilla latte with less oat milk (he’s lactose intolerant) than espresso and three sugars. Sue him, he likes his coffee sweet.

Richie is vegan. Eddie about falls over when he starts talking about the environment and passionately. The mistreatment of people of color comes up and the fact those words just came out of stoner Richie Tozier’s  mouth is making him rethink everything he knew about the world.

                                                           ***

Richie fucking lifts weights which wouldn’t be a problem if he arms weren’t so fucking buff.

                                                       ***

Okay the thing is Eddie knows he shouldn’t like Richie, but’s he’s just so damn attractive that it’s hard. His dark hair and beaming blue eyes and ridiculous glasses that happen to work for him. He has a goddamn hoop nose ring and he’s always biting at his chapped lips. He has a chest tattoo (Eddie has only seen what pokes out of the too tight, stretched out necks of his t shirts. He wears assorted band tees or white T-shirts that ride up when he stretches his arms over his head and shoves off the treasure trail that Eddie wants to lick.

So anyway the first time Richie takes off the flannel he’s wearing over a T-shirt, Eddie balks at the artfully decorated tree on his arm. It’s an elegant oak tree with autumn leaves adorning the branches. It’s... exquisite, and before Eddie can help himself, he’s reaching out to touch it. He stops himself before he does and when he looks up, Richie is smiling at him. He offers his arm and Eddie traces the tree,

“It's beautiful.”

“Well thanks Eddie spaghetti,” he says.

Eddie realizes he’s still touching his arm and quickly pulls away.

                                                      ***

It only takes a few times of mentioning his mom before Richie asks. Richie is trying to offer to drive him home after a study session runs late and it’s dark.

“You’re not walking home.”

“It’s fine, I promise.”

“You scared of my driving skills?” Richie swings his keys around his index finger.

“No, I mean yes, of course, but my mom’ll flip.”

“You say that a lot. What’s her deal?”

Eddie pales,

“Nothing. Just overprotective.”

They head to the door, Richie still insisting on a ride, and when they step out into the chilly fall air, Eddie wraps his windbreaker around himself tighter and then Richie offers again, knowingly.

“You have to drop me off around the corner.”

Richie looks at him curiously and then nods,

“Of course. Can’t have mom seeing you with big bad huh?”

“Yeah, you’re not meeting the parents material, huh?”

“That’s what they tell me,” he shrugs, “As long as they let me sneak into their bedroom.”

Eddie makes a face. Girl’s rooms.

***

One Saturday Richie doesn’t show up. He thought they were over this, Richie ditching. He hadn’t even texted. So Eddie is annoyed. No pissed. Because it’s 8am and Richie isn’t even there to give him a coffee. So he calls because he’s fuming.

Richie sounds like shit,

“Hello? Eddie? Wait. What day is it? Fuck. Eddie I am so sorry. I’m sick as fuck.”

Speaking of which, Eddie doesn’t remember seeing him in class on Thursday.

“You couldn’t call? Text?”

“Bro, I’ve been in bed for days. I’m about to die of dehydration, my parents are out of town and I can barely manage to get out of bed to pee so no, I couldn’t text.”

Eddie pauses. Hesitates. He does it to be nice. That’s all.

“What’s your address? I can bring you a few things.”

“That’s unnecessary.”

“I’m not, I’m not taking a no for an answer.”

Eddie buys too much but he can’t stop himself. About three kinds of cold and flu meds, Tylenol, cough syrup, OJ and sprite and saltines. A couple of magazines. He’s pathetic.

Richie answers the door looking like death and Eddie is Lowkey in love because he looks like a muffin. (A very sick muffin) but a muffin nevertheless.

                                                         ***

Richie returns the favor by inviting Eddie over for a movie and pizza night. He thinks about it because they’re not friends. But Richie seems sincere and he did take care of Richie. He’d changed his bed sheets and everything. They haven’t mentioned it.

So Richie’s house is nice and he has a thirteen year old sister who is way cooler than Eddie was at 13. Anyway Richie orders pizza and he orders Eddie a regular pizza but he wants to try Richie’s because it looks good. And he does and it’s good and Richie just grins and turns on some dumb Netflix movie.

They absolutely do not cuddle, but Eddie sits a touch closer than he needs to and Richie’s arm ends up draped behind him on the couch and it’s nice and goddammit, Eddie is gay for Richie Tozier.

                                                      ***

Richie never seems to tire of him, or make any move to stop their tutoring sessions even when he gets a B on their latest test.

                                                   ***

One day it’s raining and Richie is sitting across from him and parts of his white shirt are see through. And his chest is hairy and Eddie is in to it.

                                               ***

Richie’s birthday comes and goes and Eddie brings him a single German chocolate cupcake complete in a container and everything.

Richie doesn’t stop absolutely beaming. He eats the whole thing and fawns over Eddie.

“It was so good. Best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth,” he says with a wink.

“Richie,” he complains.

“Scouts honor,” he salutes, “the very best.”

“Gross!”

                                                       ***

So idk what happens but somehow they’re alone together, maybe in like a bedroom. Richie’s got his big hands open in his lap, palm up, and Eddie is firmly pressed against him and Eddie nudges Richie,

“You’re a lot cooler than I thought you’d be.”

“Aww, you too Eddie spaghetti.”

“Puh-lease fuck off.”

“Never.”

Eddie nudges him,

“Promise?”

Richie looks down at him then,

“Promise.”

Eddie stares at him and licks his lips.

Richie leans down slowly, giving Eddie plenty of time to move away. He doesn’t.

[all-hail-the-witcher]

hello, this is your fbi agent

okay so i have no explanation for this im sorry

____

ship: ralbert

genre: crack with memes

warnings: first person (????), memes, more memes, this is not related to spies, the worst crack and even worse writing, idk fam

editing: ha

words: 1099

____

*record scratch*

*freeze frame*

Yes, that’s me, Albert Dasilva, sitting behind a desk, spying on someone through their phone camera for the FBI. You’re probably wondering how i ended up in this situation. Well, frankly, I am too. I always knew that I was a walking meme, but I never thought that I would actually become one.

See, I had just finished college and, like most college graduates, was looking for a job. One of my friends who asked to remain nameless *ahem* jAcK keLLy, told me to apply to work at the FBI because apparently you only need a college degree to do that. And me, being the dumbass that I am, decided to do it as a joke cause fuck it, why would they ever hire someone who had been arrested for stealing oats and cream cheese from Target when they were 14? (Alright fine, I technically wasn't arrested, the cop was clearly caffeine deprived and let us off with a warning. Although they didn't catch us the one time Jack and I stole one of the Target balls in broad fucking daylight. Wait. Forget I said that. I’m a good wholesome Christian child and have never stolen anything, anything I may or may not have told you was a blatant lie.)

Plot twist, they fucking hired me.

(Jack got a real kick out of that, believe me.)

And, as part of my intern training, I had to do only the most memey job on the whole internet:

Watch people through their phone cameras.

Yes! We actually exist! This is not just some dumb meme that the internet made up! And I would know, because the idiot I’m assigned to watch doesn’t sleep so therefore I don't sleep and I have the dark undereye circles to prove it!

God, I want a fucking nap.

But no, instead I’m watching an idiot look up fucking lazytown quotes at two in the fucking morning.

*muffled shouting* Oh, and he’s hot. Thanks for reminding me, Jack. Not like that's WHY IM WRITING THIS YOU ASSHOLE!

*deep breath* Okay, anyway. Back to the story.

Why am I doing this?

Right. Cause I hate myself, that’s why.

Anyway. The kid that I have to watch through his phone camera. His name is Race. And no, before you ask, I do not know why he goes by Race. It’s not my business. I only watch his every move on the Internet, I don't know his whole life story! What kind of organization do you think the FBI is, huh?

Just kidding, we definitely know your whole life story and its definitely recorded in three different places, one of which is a vault hidden under Argentina. But you didn't hear that from me.

*more muffled shouting*

Jack is telling me that I’m “beating around the bush too much and need to get to the point.” Fine. I know that’s what you came here for anyway.

In short, it was a stormy night and the power had gone out, but I, a dedicated FBI intern who did not want to lose my only source of income, was using my rapidly dying iPhone to watch my assigned civilian through his phone camera. That night, the man had looked especially enchanting, the light from his phone illuminating his luscious blonde curls and accentuating his deep blue eyes, making it seem as though I could drown in their-

Okay this just sounds like shitty Wattpad fanfic. Is tHAT WHAT YOU WANTED JACK?! Also I don't know what Wattpad fanfic is like because I’ve personally read any. I spy on people through their phone cameras alright, I’ve seen a whole lot of weird shit.

Essentially, what happened was I caught some feelings. And, my supervisor figured this out by reading my weekly reports and told me essentially to “tell him you like him so you can go on a date and I can reassign you so that I don't have to keep reading these lovey dovey reports because they make my brain turn to mush.”

Thanks for that Katherine. Love you too.

And now, here I am, having this fan tas tic  monologue while trying to figure out how to compose a text message.

(Before you ask how I have Race’s phone number, I work for the FBI. There’s a lot of information I have that any normal citizen would want. Like what is actually kept in Area 51 (baby iPhones), if mothman is real (he is and secretly is the president of the United States), and if Canada is real (its not). But you shouldn’t trust any of this information because I work for the FBI and I could be lying to you.)

Here’s what I have so far:

Hi Race. My name is Albert and you might not believe this but I am actually the FBI agent in your phone...yes, we exist. I’ve spent the last 5 months watching you and I think you're kinda cool and pretty cute and was wondering if you would like to meet up some time. (Also stop looking up lazy town quotes at 2 am, I now have the whole show memorized because of you.)

Overall, it’s not bad, but there’s some things that I think could be improved and- wait, Jack, nO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING STOP GIVE THAT BACK I’M NOT FINISHED!!

*10 minutes later*

He sent it. Jack sent my fucking message before it was fuking finished and now Race isn’t going to fucking respond and I’m going to be alone forever and Katherine is going to reassign me and I’m never going to see Race’s angelic face ever again and-

Oh.

He responded?

What the hell?

Honestly, I guess I should have seen that coming. Race has no common sense.

What? I’m allowed to say that! I spend my days looking at what he googles, alright!

Anyway, I’m sure you're dying to know what he said, so here it is:

Hi Albert! You better not be trolling me because this has been the biggest and I oop moment I’ve ever had. Please tell me that you haven’t exposed my two am lazy town search sessions to the public. No one is supposed to know about that. And yes, I would love to meet up with you. Mostly to apologize for my google search history and for the memes (hehe) but also because anyone who can spy on me for 5 months without going to therapy than maybe you can actually put up with my craziness! Xx Race.

Huh.

Maybe this job isn’t so bad after all...

____

im so sorry please dont unfollow me

feedback is always appreciated, hmu to be on the taglist

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@stopthe-presses​

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@writing-makes-me-antsy

[ywcjames-blog]

yo!!! this is heather (cst, she/her, 19) & i am bringing you a man that yangwon loves to hate -- mr. choi james! james is not a new character, so if you were in yangwon before, you might recognize him; he was a kang daniel fc last time, but he’s a lee sangyeon fc this time. that’s..... pretty much the only thing that’s changed. that & the fact that he takes up a canon role now, ch1. i’ve included some general info and bg stuff under the cut, and you can find his other stuff here:          [     𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 . 𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐒     ]

* important to note that all of james’ plots r currently gender neutral!!! and multiple ones can be combined if u want. please go wild and snatch them up bc i spent so much time on them.

* ok so first of all, he works at jojamart. he’s a clerk there & his dad is the store manager. this is the reason why he’s something of a town enemy; three years in, there’s still a lot of ?? disagreement ?? regarding jojamart, clearly, and even though it’s not his family’s fault, it seems like people are hellbent on hating them, anyway.

* but to be fair, he probably dislikes this town and most of the people in it just as much as they dislike him. he was born and raised in santa cruz, california, so when his family moved to yangwon for jojamart, james was like...... bro, are you fucking kidding me? we moved to this FARM TOWN FOR THIS ONE STORE???? I WILL SCREAM!!!! was very peeved when he couldn’t find a starbucks.

* his parents are both from south korea, so he wasn’t ignorant to the culture or language. he could communicate efficiently & knew most of the behavioral expectations. granted, he didn’t know everything, so he probably offended a ton of older folks and even younger ones who are set in traditional ways when he was new here.

* he’s athletic. he played baseball & football for pretty much all of his life, only giving it a rest when he graduated from high school. he stays fit & could probably hurt a small adult into outer space. (probably not, actually, but he does always seem to hit people on the back just a little too hard when he’s greeting them.)

* super loud. this boy never shuts the fuck up, regardless of what kind of situation he’s faced with. he copes with every misfortune through humor, so if something bad happens to you, probably don’t go to james?? it’s likely that he’ll make fun of you, and he doesn’t even MEAN it in a bad way, he’s just been eating his dumb bitch oats.

* speaking of dumb bitch oats. he’s......... pretty dumb, man. air-headed. on a good day, this just means that he’ll be found miscounting change at jojamart. on a bad day, it means that you might find him skateboarding down a steep hill towards a landing pad made out of expired eggs. there’s rly no telling what you might find him doing.

* doesn’t like to fight. he prefers to be friendly, but he is definitely americanized so his friendless can come off as a bit much to locals. but he rly just wants to spread good vibes, ya feel? lately he’s been losing his patience because it’s been three years and yangwon just...... refuses to accept him...... so he might lash out & insult people from time to time,, but generally only if they push him.

* counting down the days because his parents are sick of being hated also and they’ve come to an agreement that if another year passes and something doesn’t change, they’re leaving. james wants to leave, but at the same time his stubborn side and overwhelming desire to be liked doesn’t want to be forced out by a town that refuses to open their hearts to him, so??? 

* he would literally die for the friends that he has made, though. he’s a big softie & will absolutely hold your hand and play with your hair if you’ll let him. he is so warm and so dumb and so destructive. please love him.

[twotwinks]

a thing i was tagged in a long time ago by @rochc93. i am, believe it or not, attempting to catch up on these things. i always intend to do them but it’s either not a good time when i think about them or i’m not thinking about them. sorry i’m a mess

Who were you named after?

First name, nobody bitch. That’s all me. Middle name, like twenty different characters who are important to me but all on accident because I didn’t realize we shared the name until after I’d picked it. Notable instances include Rita Rose Vrataski from Edge of Tomorrow and also Amy Rose (a recent discovery). Last name, Gary King and also because I like confusing people about my gender by deliberately using a “male” title while presenting female (though hopefully not for much longer) and also being nonbinary. (Also s/o to ladies who call themselves king instead of queen. Yes I’m thinking of Kagamine Rin in the WanOpo songs Death Should Not Have Taken Thee and Our Adventure Log Has Vanished.)

Last time you cried?

two weeks ago to the day, when my dad let our dog Koko get hit by a car, things have been Extra Bad around here since then

Do you like your handwriting?

No. When I was little everyone always used to tell me how pretty it was but then I started trying to be a Serious Writer and my penmanship degraded as a result of how fast I had to get the words out of my head. Now my mom whines all the time about how messy and illegible my writing is.

What is your favorite lunch meat?

TURKEY

Longest relationship?

Umm....about two years ago for about three months-ish? I think? Maybe two months? I don’t know, we were dating for Christmas and then I broke up with him right before Valentine’s Day because my mental health couldn’t take it. I realized I was aro shortly after. Who would’ve guessed, huh?

Do you still have your tonsils?

Yep!

Do you bungee jump?

no and i never will

What is your favorite kind of cereal?

Dude this changes like monthly. Sometimes Honey Bunches of Oats. Sometimes Frosted Flakes. Sometimes I get a ridiculously strong craving for Strawberry Awake or Lucky Charms or Honey Nut Cheerios. I just get to eat cereal so infrequently that I can’t really have a favorite, I just have to indulge whatever craving I currently have because I only get the chance to eat one box every three months or so.

Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?

Yes because when I was little my mom ingrained into me that not untying my shoes first would ruin the backs of them way faster than they should. In all fairness we were poor and couldn’t afford to buy me new shoes that often because my feet are so sensitive that an actual comfortable pair costs $100.

Do you think you’re strong willed?

oh fuck no i mean have you ever spoken to me??? i’m the biggest baby pushover to ever live

Favorite ice cream?

Either that Death by Chocolate stuff they serve at Purdue’s dining courts sometimes or mint chocolate chip. It has to be green though or it loses something sdkhsdhk

What is the first thing you notice about a person?

Usually like their shirt, I guess? I don’t know, this isn’t something I’ve ever really thought about. Maybe it’s also if they have one of those annoying faces or voices. Or if they have a queer vibe. Look I’m not good with people ok.

Football or baseball?

Football but only because marching band and/or soccer

Favorite doughnut?

Okay this is going to sound weirdly specific but. Chocolate cake donut with chocolate frosting and rainbow sprinkles. Also on a related note I once let a girl in high school copy my homework (that I myself had found the answers to on the internet, it was a really unfair English assignment). She was so happy that she said she’d buy me a donut for breakfast the next day (she made a donut run for herself once a week as a special treat). I gave her my oddly specific request, but since I knew it was kind of a rare donut to find I told her anything chocolate would work. The next day, lo and behold, she showed up with the perfect donut. She had them make it special for me (insert Discord’s pleading face emoji). That was the day I learned my lesson about judging “dumb blondes”.

What music are you listening to?

I’ve been back into Touhou doujin arrangements again lately, especially eurobeat. However I’m also hyperfixating on Sonic the Hedgehog again so the game soundtracks and the Crush 40 albums are starting to show up in my frequent rotation on Spotify.

If you were a crayon, what color would you be?

The obvious choice is mint green but I could also very easily be a lime green or a glittery ruby slippers red.

Who was the last person you talked to on the phone?

I believe I talked to my grandma a little bit on my mom’s phone not that long ago? Other than that according to my phone it looks like I took a call from my dad back in April?

Hair color?

that real deep almost black brown. i nearly got into a fistfight with some boys in second grade who insisted my hair was black. it’s not black it’s just very thick. it actually looks much lighter if you just separate a smaller chunk and look at it.

Eye color?

Hazel. Brown with some green flecks. Or possibly green with some brown flecks. Also both of my irises look different up close but you can’t tell unless you’re really up in my face.

Favorite food to eat?

pasta but it can’t have red sauce

Scary movies or happy endings?

happy endings all the way

Last film you watched in the cinema?

do you really expect me to remember this. i honestly do not fucking know. i have no brain when it comes to movie theaters. i was gonna do a double feature of birds of prey and the sonic movie the tuesday before spring break (cheap prices for students!!!) but i ended up having a headache that day so i couldn’t go and then shit hit the fan and there was no theatergoing. i have tried and failed to get my parents to rent the sonic movie since. i’m very unhappy about it now that i’m hyperfixating again.

What color shirt are you wearing?

well i think it used to be white but it’s really old so now it’s like off-white. also it has a big snake on the back. i don’t even like snakes i just enjoy this shirt.

Favorite holiday?

Christmas!!! I don’t necessarily actually enjoy celebrating the holiday (thanks fam) but I love the idea behind it and the aesthetics. Also it’s peppermint season!

Beer or wine?

Listen I am super picky about alcohol. I haven’t liked any of the wine I’ve tried, but the first two wines I had other people told me it was bad (and then they took me out and bought me alcohol I would actually like because I’d never drank before and apparently getting me tipsy in Ireland over spring break was an Honor for them I literally didn’t pay for a single drink that night) and the third wine I had was paired with the wrong type of food (we couldn’t get the Right wine bottle open). I didn’t really mind the beer I tried in Ireland though, so I guess beer? I really like cider best though, and apparently I can also handle vodka.

Night owl or morning person?

night owl i wish i could be nocturnal

Favorite day of the week?

Friday. It has all the joy and anticipation of the coming weekend without the curse of my dad being home or the responsibility of homework looming over everything.

Favorite animal?

HEDGEHOG yeah i never really got past that from when i was little. but i also just love pretty much all animals. except like. snakes and spiders but sometimes snakes have their moments.

Do you have a pet?

Yeah. We have a lot of “family” pets but I consider Patches (cat) and Gabby (dog) to be Mine Specifically. If my mom hadn’t forced me out of therapy I’d probably be bringing Patches with me to college next year as an emotional support animal.

Where would you like to travel?

Europe babey. I just wanna hang out in France and England and Scotland and also go back to Ireland. I miss Ireland so much y’all.

ok that’s it. that’s all for this one. i’m not tagging anyone because i’m sure it’s already made the rounds among everyone. but if it missed you and you still wanna do it go for it. consider yourself tagged. poof.

[its-chotime]

Day 1: March 15, 2020

I think it’s quite fitting that self isolation starts on the Ides of March.

I’m awake and I think I’m sad and scared. I’m crying in the bathroom. I hope my family is okay in Seattle. I want to be with them. 

Really want to go grab sourdough starter from Ten Belles but there’s no way in hell I’m going to the 11eme. It’s okay though because Tan has lived as a baker in California and told me it’s easy to do on my own. Also saw Arn start his own. I’ve got this. Oh but wait, Ale went to go get some.  

Anthony went to vote. I’m pissed at the government. Talk about being hypocritical. They will regret this in hindsight. 

All non-essentials were ordered to close at midnight last night but I’m seeing photos of Parisians outside all night. How are people this fucking selfish and stupid? What makes me more sad is that I know people who were out. Why do so many people not understand how serious this is? 

Messaged out recipes to 37 people. Makes me feel a little better. Will donate money where I can but also worried for my finances going forward. I poke fun at Anthony for his boring job but it might be his boring job that keeps food on the table these next few months or even years. Will think about that later. POST IT. 

Anthony messaged me that the Marie of the 6eme is sending him to the high school next to us because we moved in the arrondissement. OMG how do you not know where to vote? I’m going to lose my shit. Now Anthony is telling me has to go back to the Marie because the high school doesn't have him registered. How many people is he speaking with? How many people has he been near? This is not ok.

Anthony messaged me again that he ran into an old friend in line. I need a Xanax. 

Anthony just got home and told me he plans to have beers with his friends next week. Are you fucking kidding me? He tries to explain social isolation to me and I want to know why so many people suffer from media illiteracy? Is reading comprehension no longer a thing? I think the government needs to deploy the army. French people cannot be saved at this rate. 

I’m pissed at Anthony. Going to channel these feelings into lunch. Do I start rationing now? I feel guilty for being this prepared but stop, I have been planning for this since I got back from Seattle in early February. Most of what I have in my pantry is from our Costco run in December anyway. Guilt, go AWAY. 

Had the genius idea to shoot what I make at home. A visual diary. My camera is always there for me. I have three sheets of card stock paper. I should have bought more. Ugh I am so stupid, I even live next to a Rougier and Ple, I should have thought about this. It’s going to be ok. Right? 

Made the most gorgeous kimchi quinoa fried rice with two eggs and two steaks. Kimchi from La Boucherie Gregoire is the best. Glad I bought two bags last week. But fuck, ruined my black card stock with the heat from my skillet. It’s okay, it’s okay. Lunch was delicious but I'm still pissed at Anthony. I’m still hungry though and I am worried I’ll start binge eating again these next few weeks.

Not sure how to check in with my friends whilst maintaining my sanity. Hope Jeu is okay, I’ll wait for her to write me. Don’t want to smother her with my American ways. She’s still French. Talking with Arn and Yeu makes me feel better, like I’m not alone here. Lucky to have Pip in the same boat as me, two American gals in Paris. 

Going to channel this into focaccia. First time making this and I will surely fuck up. 

Fuck, didn’t realize I need this much fucking flour. 800 grams! A bag of flour is only 1 kg. This was not a good use of my limited resources. Do I know what I’m doing? Why is it so wet. Please grow, my baby dough, please grow! 

I want to watch True Detective but Anthony wants to play Call of Duty on the PlayStation with his friends. I want to die. I need to stop saying that cause clearly I don’t want to actually die. 

Anthony wins and I’ll read and listen  to the news. I love the news so much that I even watch it when I’m on an airplane. As a child, I used to talk back to the anchor. Liking the news is actually a strength. 

Pha is asking if I plan to work. Absolutely not. I’m not in a good place mentally and lifestyle content like travel and where to eat is not what I should be doing right now. Maybe I’ll feel more inspired next week. He tells me we should share books. That’s a good idea considering how many books I have. My own little library with oddly world curiosities.

Gov is planning a full on lock down. Good. So many selfish people out in Paris. The pictures are pissing me off. Should I go back to Seattle? I don’t know what to do. My grandma is in Seattle and I think it’s best if I stay. The airports in the US look like a mess. Not to mention, I would be leaving bad for worse. Plus healthcare! Also, Anthony cannot take care of himself at all. I did all the planning for this! I hope Anthony starts to take this seriously. 

Anthony has heard of the lockdown and suggests we run to Franprix for one last time. Is he finally grasping what’s happening? 

Franprix is busier than usual but people are still being dumb. Saw a guy buy a box of ice cream, two bottles of wine, and nothing else. Why am I being such a cunt? Let the man live! Pasta shelves and toilet paper are empty. Also no oat milk. 

I hope my mail comes even with the shut down because I ordered sparkling water and a ton of Korean food. They should both be here on Tuesday. 

I don’t think my focaccia is growing. Nooooo.

Messaged my kinetherapist Jus about my growing wrist and shoulder pain. Would be horrible if I had to get my arm amputated. I cannot stop being dramatic, I’m sorry. 

Going to eat our cheap sushi and watch True Detective. 

Why am I so hungry? All I can think about is food. Going to create a list of everything I can eat with what I have. 

Mat just told me it’s okay to eat a lot. What a nice thing. 

Pip is going back to the US. Makes me sad. Hope she feels better. 

Nan checking in on me from NY. Lucky to have such good friends. We are acknowledging that this is going to effect all of us. She understands the guilt I’m feeling. I was hoping it would take months to recover but it might actually take years as Nan says. Anthony agrees, it’ll take years to recover. 

I’m going to try to be more positive starting Tuesday. 

When will Macron do better in containing this? I need to sleep. 

[sweet-xoxo-thatcares]

It's official....I'm lactose intolerant.

After these past few years trying not to go over the limit 🙃 I guess my stomach finally had enough.

And got sick from me eating too much cereal to replace my childhood comfort whenever I felt like shit and needed a hug....or cuddle after masturbation...

Sigh....this sucks. Now my honeycombs, pops, trix, and all my fruity, sweet, unhealthy friends won't taste the same anymore 😕

Soy milk and almond milk only really tastes the best with healthier cereals like brann flakes, ommggg brann.....I'm so used to her last name I typed it brann, instead of bran.

Almond with Almond crunch or honey bunches of oats, or honey nut cheerios.

Soy milk actually did taste great with Strawberry Kellogs Flakes. I introduced them to grandma when I was staying with her and she said liked it and that it didn't hurt her stomach.

I guess we do have something else in common now. My celibacy from milk. No wonder she kept drinking that watered down milk and furina. The calcium powder stuff. I had a cat by that name. I thought it cute. It was like the word ballerina, mixed with her white soft fur, and her striped. Her eyes were either grayish blue in the light, and red if you saw her in the dark under the moonlight. She chased me around the living room the first time mom brought her home. I was always scared of new things and expected her to just stay right there so I could pet her and look at her. I didn't expect her to move and try to get so close to my face, which I feared her trying to scratch me, so I ran 😅 Furina so silly.

Does that mean I can't eat pizza anymore? I love pizza too 😋🥲 it helps me when I crave pizza whenever I think about you know who...

My pride gets in the way.

I finally sucked it up and ignore Jay's voice telling me that to stop stepping over my boundaries....cause Jay always wouldn't let me like the same stuff as them when they were angry or sexually frustrated at me for being a jerk, just because I wanted an actual relationship with another person, because Jay didn't wanna date me and respect me.

That's why I felt like I was doing something bad just because I was listening to country music or watching their favorite movies or shows 🤔 its like whatever was Jay's was there's and I could only watch whatever they didn't really care about or like as much as I already did. They didn't want me to know them behind the mask, so maybe that's why they didn't want me to like something that they liked. Because they thought they owned it.

And everytime I would try to listen to a song or a show, like today, that i knew they liked. Doctor Who Episode 1, season 1. I kept hearing Jay say "get off of me", "that's not yours", "you're only watching it because I like it", "why are you here", and "why don't you just go away." "You're overstepping boundaries."

And the smell of Ayunna's sugar cookies and Black Forest gummies...Jay's pizza rolls, pop, beer, Smirnoff White Ice, pop tarts, gushers kicks in.

Why did everything they like had to be there's? And why was I kept so separated from them even before and after, and I didn't see it was so organized....the isolation. They made fun of my differences, controlled and criticized everything they thought I needed to get rid of: the food I shared, the music I shared, the new hairstyle I tried....they suggested I should get an undercut and they were the only person to never compliment me after I worked so hard to make it and everywhere else I went everyone liked my blue green twists. Jay never said anything nice. Just things to change or make it better in the way they saw it...

clothes, they thought I could do better even when we weren't going anywhere special. The only time I got a compliment was when I was wearing a crop top and they said they could see my bra. That's the reason they liked it. Objectifying me for my legs whenever I wore shorts.

shoes.....ehhh. nothing.

persistently talked about how weird and different I was because I was just so different. They just didn't understand how hurt I was to be invited over to watch something or eat something with then and I got comments and criticism...as if I was so unwelcomed...even though you were the one that even asked me to get dressed, put on makeup for you and to come over your apartment whenever you felt like it. You would even say mean, rude, disrespectful shit like "this is why I don't ask you to come over" "can't take yo ass nowhere" "I'm not inviting you over anymore" and "why are you calling me"

You sound just like Darius. The other bully I had to get rid of for telling me "I hope you and your family choke on dirty brown water." After he heard about the flint water crisis and I told him Steve harvey had got us on the show to film an episode about it.

He was a hater, just like you. Pushed me away and kept coming back just like you. On and off, on and off, on and off, on and off.

You were the worst piece of shit to ever call a friend, Jay. You hit every wound I ever had in the book, and some I told you about and then threw me under the bus after you kept hitting those same wounds over and over again like you didn't care, on purpose. Because you wanted to have your way with me, control me, humiliate me, punish me, just like your words, your blocks on phone calls, social media, and everytime I tried to talk to you afterwards. You've bruised me worse than Darius and every other thing that rejected me, abandoned and emotionally neglected me.

And everyday I have to fight myself back and live with it, the pain of everything that reminds me of us, you, and her. And I'm sick of it.

I'm tired of feeling stings in my side, my heart, betrayal in my back. The knife in my chest still stings. And you have no idea what it feels like, nor do you care. Fuck off. Fuck you. I'm watching Doctor Who, Willoughbys, and that post office Klaus movie, because you don't control me anymore.

You're just the image of everything that was, and what is no more. You're not welcome here. Just as you made me feel before. You were the 1st and the last to ever get this close to me. You're eliminated. You are a irrelevant, unstable, and a pain in my ass.

I was never rude to you unless I left, or if you started to piss me off to the highest tolerance. And I tolerated so much shit from you. I was so patient waiting for you to unblock me and talk to me each and every semester you have a fucking, baby tempur tantrum about me not not doing something you wanted me to do. I'm not your fucking dog, I'm not your fucking child, I'm not your overweight fuck buddy that you can just fetishize and use because you have a milf titty addiction. Fuck you insecure bitch, wanna be a manwhore but have double standards for women like a straight up misogynist.

WELL NEWSFLASH BITCH YOU STILL ARE A GIRL, YOU WAS BORN A GIRL, AND NOBODY CAN UNSEE IT UNTIL YOU STOP TREATING PEOPLE LIKE A CHILDISH ANGELICA FROM RUGRATS. CONTROLLING AND PISSING OFF PEOPLE FOR YOUR PLEASURE MANHO.

KISS MY ASS AND IDGAF IF YOU CHANGE YOUR NAME, GROW A DEEPER VOICE, AND GROW A DICK. YOU WILL NEVER HAVE AS MUCH BALLS AS ME. CAUSE IM PROBABLY THE 1ST PERSON TO EVER CALL YO DUMBASS OUT. LEARN HOW TO BE A MAN THAT RESPECTS WOMEN AND DOESN'T ACT LIKE A JEALOUS BITCH JUST BECAUSE SOMEONE IS NEW AND DIFFERENT TO YOU. UNTIL YOU LEARN EMPATHY, HOW TO LISTEN, HOW TO EVEN REMEMBER, HOW TO BREATHE, AND HOW TO BE A TRUE, HONEST, CONSIDERATE, MORAL, RESPONSIBLE LEADER, LIKE MY FATHER. THEN I'LL SEE YOU AS A MAN.

TILL THEN, YOU A BITCH AND YOU'LL ALWAYS BE. THAT GOES FOR ANY MAN, TRANS OR NOT.

IF YOU TREAT WOMEN LIKE THIS MITCH DOES, YALL ALLLLL BITCHES TOO. YO MOMMA AND YO DADDY TOO FOR NOT TEACHING YOU RIGHT FROM WRONG. YOU DONT PUT FEAR AND DISRESPECT, ANGER AND CONTROL, TO EARN ANYONE'S RESPECT. RESPECT IS LEARNED. RESPECT IS EARNED.

THATS WHY YOU AND HER DONT EVEN HAVE TRUE FRIENDS. THE ONLY PEOPLE YOU THINK YOU NEED TO RESPECT IS JUST YALL 2, AND FUCK EVERYBODY ELSE. IF THATS HOW YALL FEEL.

THEN YOULL ALWAYS BE ALONE. YOU STUPID, IGNORANT ASS, DUMB BITCH. FUCK YOU TWO DRY ASS, BASIC ASS BECKY, HOES. HOPE YOUR NECKS HURT FROM TALKING SO MUCH SHIT, YOU SOUND LIKE A DOG CHOKING ON YOUR ON YOUR PLASTIC DICKS.

YOU FUCKIN DILDO.